Wings of Love
by LediShae
Summary: AU Harpies had long been rivals of the gryphons yet, being in the wrong place at just the right time brings three would be enemies together against a common foe.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was a prompt by deathmustang from lj, she gets all credit for the story idea, I'm just putting it to words. All Transformers belong to their respective creators.

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Frigid air tore through his intakes, chilling systems that burned red hot as he pushed himself to fly higher and faster, pumping wings that burned in thrilling agony with each stroke. Beside him, a matching red dot rowed through the sky, wings beating in time with his as they prepared to face in combat. Higher still, streaking above them like a massive purple arrow arcing across the blue steel sky, a younger gryphon signaled their fight to begin.

Sunstreaker pulled his wings in tightly against his sides, barrel rolling into his opponent's flight line and across it forcing the other to lose altitude or face a lethal mid air collision. With his red opponent now a mere speck below him Sunstreaker snapped his wings open with a thunderous clap as the wind collided with his golden metallic feathers. He pumped his wings determinedly to gain more altitude above the fierce opponent streaking towards him like a brilliant-hued portend of doom. Finally high enough he once more folded his wings tightly to his sides as he stretched his lithe body out, arrow like, to reduce his air resistance. He plummeted from the light of the sun above him, the slitted optics of his opponent telling him he had chosen his trajectory correctly as wicked talons raked down the other's back, snagging one of three white streamers as a 'damaging blow' to his opponent.

He danced away feeling a thrill of triumph just as a scream of victory tore through the air above him. Looking up he hissed through his beak in impotent rage as his brother screamed his victory once more, all three of Sunstreaker's streamers fluttering from wickedly sharp beak and talons. "Slagger," Sunstreaker cursed as he plunged to the ground, matching his brother stroke for stoke as they plunged towards the earth. Sideswipe may have pulled a sly maneuver, letting Sunstreaker take one of his streamer's in a bid to snag all three of his twin's in one blow. Sunstreaker, however, could out dance his brother any day and he would prove it.

They formed spiraling corkscrews about one another, Sideswipe hindered by his victory tokens that occasionally tangled with his remaining streamers. They danced as if courting, gold and crimson specks growing dangerously fast as they plummeted seemingly without control to the unforgiving rocks below. At the last second, the many gryphons below them scattered and tensed to avoid the falling forms, the pair broke off, snapping their wings open with thunderous snaps that allowed them to land poised perfectly on one back paw for all to see before finally lowering to all fours with, in Sunstreaker's case, exquisitely controlled grace.

Sideswipe on the other talon, landed roughly, huffing at the impact and wincing as his talons tangled in loose stones. With a sharp glance behind him Sunstreaker smirked at his brother, knowing his twin had been too busy gloating to pick a suitable landing spot and was now suffering for it.

Satisfied that he had rubbed Sideswipe's beak in the dust Sunstreaker strode with precisely controlled, fluid grace to their clan leader, the aged and worn down Arcee. The gryphon femme glared up at them, her age faded feathers more white than pink somehow only made her seem smaller and more delicate to their young optics.

"Proud of yourselves?" She asked sternly from her rock perch that barely put her on their optic level. "Sunstreaker, you lost the battle and you still are too haughty to admit defeat." She hissed savagely, "Gryphons have honor, which you still lack greatly." She looked over the overly vain golden gryphon mech with disdain once more before turning her aged gaze on the other miscreant.

"Sideswipe, the goal of these practice battles is to use your miniscule processors to outwit your opponent, not put your internals right in his talon range! We have big heads full of processing capacity for a reason." She shook her head despairingly, "Apparently you _still_ lack the intelligence to see this." She sat up straighter, aged back trembling with fatigue at keeping her once vaunted perfect poise.

"Did we pass?" Sunstreaker asked flatly, unimpressed with his leader, or her many scowling wing leaders gathered around her.

"Technically," Arcee snapped, "Sideswipe did. He stole your streamers, except he used the one maneuver that gets every moronic young bachelor terminated in his first sortie. Therefore, no neither of you passed. And, that means, neither one of you have earned your mating rights within this clan, _again_." Arcee finally grinned victoriously; her wizened nares flaring over her delicate beak gaped in the gryphonic grin of their race.

Finally, realization dawning on them Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looked at each other in stunned horror. They had been of mating age for six vorns now, and six vorns was the maximum time allotted for young bachelors to prove their status as worthy males for the clan less they be banished – forever.

Sideswipe stared thunderstruck at his clan leader, their great-great-grand carrier, before finally looking over the assembled clan around them. Carrier and creator, siblings, families great and small and for the first time in his life he realized he didn't know these gryphons at all. They were strangers related by propagation programming alone. He knew their names, how to get under their feathers without effort, what they would give anything to have, be it a trysting partner or a favorite dish that was nigh impossible to find. He knew all this _about_ them but he did not _know_them.

"_Finally_," Sunstreaker relaxed, sitting comfortably on his lion-like haunches, "We can get out of here without being hunted down for deserting." With that he rose and turned with enviable fluidity, leaving with calm nonchalance towards the cave he and Sideswipe shared as their bachelor quarters, cramped bachelor quarters, with several other male hopefuls seeking their place in the clan's hierarchy.

Sideswipe sat still a moment longer, long lion tail tufted with metal feathers flopping like a landed fish behind him as he pondered his new discovery. Looking from brother to clan he finally decided the few trinkets his clan mates owed him for lost bets were not worth his time he finally tore off his streamers and followed the golden figure that had always been the most important thing in his life.

"But, you two promised, we'd be together!" A bright green femme cried from the crowd. "You promised!" She looked to the red plumed mech she thought she had loved and gaped at his bland shrug as he brushed past her. "What about the sparklet?"

"You wanted it." Sideswipe replied over his shoulder with a shrug, realizing only as the chorused shouts of outrage that maybe sparking up the femme without a true mating flight might not have been a good idea. He sent a mental shove towards his brother who tore out of their cave, meager belongings bundled against his chest as both took to the skies flying for their very lives from the outraged clan they no longer belonged to.

"You sparked her?" Sunstreaker demanded as they tore through the skies, eagle forearms and talons burdened with the only possessions they could claim.

"We, dear brother, we sparked her. You were no less enthusiastic." Sideswipe reminded with a jaunty grin, out of place in their desperate bid for escape that was taking them ever closer to the lands of their greatest enemies – the so called civilized mechs that dared call their people mere beasts. The two leggers were so haughty in their cities and towns. They lived fat off of cultivated energon that took nothing to synthesize instead of honorably generating it from the fluids of their kills as the gryphons and other clan mechs of the Free Lands did.

Far below them the rugged terrain of the gryphon lands passed swiftly below them changing to the southernmost forested edge of the harpy forest. They kited east, skirting the dangerous boundary between the lands of gryphons and harpies as they winged ever away from their home. Finally, the faster gryphons of the messenger wings began catching up, flying in tight formations the brothers would hold no defense against.

Knowing their fate was sealed, should they remain aloft the pair turned west and south heading to the stagnant fog that never dissipated from the Maw of Primus. The deep, endless crevasse no flier ever neared. The fogs held strange entities that stole the very wind from under ones wings, the breath from the intakes and sight from optics, leaving them to fall in eternal darkness. Despite the fate they knew awaited them, Sunstreaker and Sideswipe dove headlong into the mists vanishing from their pursuers' optics to their doom.

"When it is born, the gryphlet must be terminated, such madness cannot be allowed to spread through the bloodlines." Arcee murmured sadly looking toward the young femme's sire sadly. "Come, we must mourn our parted sons."

Dawn slowly crested the slumbering forest. Trees shimmering in dark metallic rainbow hues welcomed the crimson sun's early light. Enormous leaves shaped as fans rained condensation down on the lower branches, stirring the nesting slumbers who called their highest canopy home. Small creatures, hued of the brightest rainbow colors slipped from the high canopy for their daily hunts. While others, lower down in the branching heights returned from their nightly toils to slumber through the newborn day.

"In the largest trees, high above the clouds, unholy shrieks and baleful cries herald the awakening of the forest's fiercest denizens, the harpies. Faces sculpted as the most beautiful of femmes and mechs belie the clawed wings and lethal talons all harpies possess. Their bright optics, often soft and desiring mask the lethal and bloodthirsty natures that boil within the harpy's lightless sparks, and are used to lure wayward travelers to their destruction.

"Despite their beautiful visage harpies slaughter their kill by ripping out the still pulsing spark as a trophy that is ingested followed by breaking open the cranial plating to get at the more desirable processors. They gorge on internal components, the still warm energon dripping from their mechanoid-like lips as they rip components in shattered fragments raining gore –"

"Will you quit reading those ghastly stories aloud before breakfast?" Ratchet groused as he pulled himself from the thick, warm spare nest of cushions and pillows his youngling's family kept for his irregular visits.

"But Uncle Ratchet, creator says its mandatory reading for all young harpies." Bright, young, blue optics looked up at Ratchet from a pile of younglings on the floor. Ever curious, Streetwise held the worn leather tome in his blue feathered lap, a matching claw tipped blue wing used to turn to the thick hide pages that had held up to generations of rambunctious harpy younglings.

"And Uncle Ratchet says either quit it or those wings will be welded to your tail feathers." Ratchet half heartedly snarled at the clustered younglings, and sighed exasperatedly as his own creation's soft blue optics landed on him pleadingly.

"Please carrier? Just a few more pages?" Aid asked softly, kind optics sincere as he smiled winningly. Red and white, the opposite of Ratchet's primary colors, First Aid looked little like his half brothers he snuggled with. Silently, Ratchet was grateful, pleased that the unwanted mating those years ago had not gifted him with a youngling that looked just like his vain and obstinate creator.

"Fine, just let me get out of audio range before I lose my appetite." With a final huff Ratchet left the crowded sleeping quarters and headed out to find the creator of the many younglings nestled together in a optic assaulting raucous of colored feathers.

"Morning Ratchet" the said creator smiled winningly from his seat at the long table in his home, surrounded by the beautiful femmes of his harem and many of the younglings he had sired surrounding them.

"Tracks," Ratchet nodded distantly. "I see new faces." He gestured to a pair of full femmes and a harpy that looked somewhat lost between being mech and femme.

"Yes, I won three new wives from Jetfire's brood, his two eldest daughters and his fourth son. The lad was neuter sparked, so he will serve as a guard, but we can still have our pleasures." The last was spoken with a lusting purr towards the young neuter who could only smile at his new master.

Ratchet silently swallowed the bitter energon that boiled in his craw at the thought of mating for life with the brilliantly plumed mech before him and shuddered. Red and blue, Tracks was a striking harpy. And, a sly back stabbing, no account, wheedling free loader who never fought if he could avoid it misbegotten unholy union of a walking aft and a gryphon.

Ratchet silenced his inner diatribe of curses as the still unpleasant memory of being caught in his first heat by the mech that had sired Aid nearly made Ratchet's tanks heave, and also signaled that he would be best leaving sooner rather than later. The white and red harpy sat with ill grace as he glowered at his creation's sire.

"Congratulations," Finally calmed and capable of speaking without yelling at Tracks, Ratchet plucked a succulent fruit from a waiting basket filled only during his visits. "Aid has requested to join me this trip. It will be short, to my brother's harem then off to – to see my carrier." He stammered over the last of his planned journey, dreading coming home with his half grown youngling and _still_ no proper mate. Of course, facing his carrier was always daunting regardless of the circumstance, he mused as he bit savagely into the pre-energon rich fruit. The caustic acid singing the delicate tissues around his beak, yet only added to the satisfaction of eating the delectable rarity.

After all, Ratchet mused as his mind wandered, his creator had only one mate, and that one mate had chased every potential rival and harem sister away single handedly. Oh yes, Ratchet silently groaned at the prospect of going home, this was going to be _fun_. Not.

Tracks laughed out loud, "Your carrier is the scariest harpy alive. I thought I was going to leave your home nest a eunuch when they found out we were not going to be mated."

"Trust me, the fact that I have stake in Aid's life is the only thing that saved your spike. Otherwise carrier would have eaten it for breakfast and proceed to give me yet another sibling made from _your_ incorporated circuits. Nasty as that thought is I might have enjoyed it once." Ratchet filled in with a glare, still not able to forgive Tracks after these many vorns.

"Still sore, huh? Calm down," Tracks sighed, "I never wanted a mech carrier in my harem, you were just a pleasant tryst."

"Trysts include both sides willing, or at least honorably fought for, not heat crazed and exhausted after chasing off ten other suitors." Ratchet snarled, turning to leave, "Aid! Now!"

"Good idea," Tracks grinned, "I don't think Aid really wants a full sibling just yet." Optics twinkling as he read Ratchet's uncomfortable body language. "You might want to deal with that little issue soon."

Ratchet snarled and stormed from Track's bole, frame shifting from harpy to mech mid stride, and stood in the crisp, early morning breeze on the upper branches of the tallest forest giant for miles. With a sigh Ratchet reached for a small vial constantly kept in his sub space, taking swig of bitter, heavily dosed energon to suppress the symptoms of his encroaching heat cycle. He grimaced and choked down the vile mixture that would keep him sane, and his body from emitting the pheromones that were responsible for Tracks nabbing him the first time that thankfully resulted in his beautiful First Aid.

"Why do you always yell at creator?" Aid asked softly as he stepped beside his carrier, small wing claws reaching for Ratchet's crimson wrist with his own opalescent claws.

Ratchet pulled the smaller white mechling close, shifting from his mech form to his harpy form as encircling arms elongated and sprouted feathers. His red hands and white arms became long white wings with striking red primaries. "I will always love you. Always, do you understand?" Ratchet asked instead as he looked down into confused young optics.

Aid nodded silently, uncertain where this was going, afraid as always that this was the orn his carrier said goodbye.

"I am grateful that I had you, and I wouldn't change anything. However, it doesn't mean I forgive Tracks for making me a carrier when I was far too young with no safe nest, no prospects of a harem and especially for – topping – me when I was exhausted. He never fought me for that right." Ratchet sighed as the old bitterness rose again in his spark. "So I yell at him. I just hope you don't grow into a carrier mech like me."

"What happens if I do?" Aid asked nervously.

"As soon as you show signs you're moving in with Uncle 'Jack."

"Why? What about my brothers?"

"Because he's still as pissed at your creator as I am. As for your nest-brothers, we'll deal with that issue when and if it arises. Now come on, we've got patients in the Common Lands." Together they leapt off from the tall branch, powerful wings carrying them high above the lower canopy to the distant plains where the different races mingled all guised as normal Mechanoids.

Sideswipe whistled shrilly in triumph, his voice barely reaching his own audios in this strange too thin layer of air trapped within the Maw of Primus. They had done this before, space diving, they called it. Here the air was too thin to support their masses and was too thin to breathe, so they held their breaths and sank like stones, waiting for the very second the thickened – right there!

In unison they unfuled their wings, catching the sudden rushing wind that deafened them with the return of sound as they screamed their victory to the thick fog above. Here, in the bottom of Primus' Maw they foundl themselves soaring over a wide trade route heavy with carters and traders. Two legged mechs of all descriptions traveled up and down the winding track, well pounded and rutted into a sandy, tapering worm that extended in either direction in the eternal stormy gloom until it faded from sight.

_They don't see us!_ Sideswipe crowed over their twin bond, gloating to be flying unnoticed. Only to shudder, squalling in surprise as water geysered up to engulf them, drenching their feathered wings until the fine metal barbs matted together too soaked to keep them air borne.

_Moron,_ Sunstreaker mentally buffeted his sibling, jostling the other's mental presence brutally before they both braced for the strut shattering fall that would be the end of them. Only to be slung viciously as netting captured them mid fall, ensnaring them in its massive folds. They swung wildly within the heavy woven chording, heads snapping this way and that as the parcel they had become flung them into painful unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

The distinctive whooshing of wing beats filled the air as Ratchet and First Aid circled lower over a clearing a mile from the outer most range of the Common Lands. Optics bright Aid had been in awe as the raven black forest he had always known slowly shrunk and faded behind them turning into pale greenish grey mineral leafed scrub land bordering the distant verdant undulating plains that stretched to the horizon.

Even here in this clearing amongst some of the taller brushes along the border of forest and plain they were little more than specks. First Aid watched in continual awe as his carrier landed gently, form shifting from harpy to mech in a smooth rearrangement of plating. Turning with a loving smile Ratchet reached out to Aid, stealing the youngling from the wind as he held the smaller frame close in a proud embrace.

"You have become a very good flier." Ratchet beamed as he let Aid reclaim his pedes. "Have you been able to shift forms yet?"

Aid shook his head in silence, out there, in the plains known as the Common Lands, the normal mechs strode proudly despite being trapped within a single form. They could not shift and from their jealousy of the free races they sent Hunters into the free lands to seek the many races liberated from their stifling mech forms.

"I thought not, here I have a present from Uncle Jack." Ratchet pulled a small talisman bound on a thick cable. The talisman Aid lifted with his leading primaries was half the length of his longest feathers. Made of gathered mer-femme scales and siren feathers it radiated a totemic power that tingled through Aid's relays. "This will let your frame take on the form of a common mech. It will also hide you should danger come and guide you to safety."

"Wow!" Aid grinned ducking through the proffered cable and watching in childish enthusiasm as his pure white wings and crimson chest ruff drew in and changed becoming white mech arms and red chest plating similar but different from that of his carrier. "Do I look like you, Carrier?"

"Of course you do." Ratchet smiled grateful he could answer honestly. Despite having Tracks' finer facial features and lacking the helm crest above his optics that Ratchet bore they still looked too much alike to be anything but mech and spark-youngling.

"Now listen, the common mechs are always creators and femmes are always carriers. You have to call me either Uncle Ratch like your brothers or creator."

"Because Hunters might find us and if I call my mech carrier by what he is they will know we are of the free races and want to kill us." Aid replied somberly despite the gleam of excitement that lit his optics. Despite, or maybe because of the stories he had lived on and all the violence inherent in a harpy's life this was still more a game to young Aid. Ratchet could only smile, grateful his mechling could see the adventure despite the danger and the fun despite the duty they had to fulfill.

"Very good, now come on we must walk fast to get to the borderlands healing hall." Ratchet led Aid through the bracken leading to the plains guiding Aid through safer paths away from the lethal critters that filled the tall purplish grasses filling the ever dense undergrowth. The early morning brightened further letting the sun bless the glistening plains with its light. Metallic grasses that screeched and shattered lightly beneath their pedes from last season's growth provided the only sound of their passing. Finally they crested a hillock taller than Ratchet and very steep that led down into the gently rolling burgundy basin that was the common lands.

Ahead of them just at the base of the hill a temple of stone and canvass stretched out parallel to the line of hills that formed a barrier between the civilized common lands and terrifying savage lands beyond the scrub. Ratchet halted Aid as they looked down upon the temple, "That is the healing temple. In there all are called either mechs or femmes or by their names. Never call any two-leggers for that will give us away and our home land is known to them as savage. For them we are creatures of terror and nightmare. Once mechs turned to monsters for hideous deeds done by ancient ancestors banished to the forest wilds and eternal damnation from Primus' Light. They believe this and for them that is reality. They do not know we can change our appearance. Remember this."

"I will, Uncle Ratch." Aid replied with a sly grin happy to see his carrier smile for doing as he had asked. "My carrier never told me you were my creator and I grew up with my brothers knowing you as an uncle. I wanted to be like you and made carrier let me go with you. Only since I'm not always good I overheard you two arguing and found out who I thought was my creator was really the creator of my half-brothers."

Ratchet chuckled, "You are too clever by far for your own good. Just make sure you remember what you just said because I may not." Finally reassured that his mechling would not reveal them from poorly chosen words Ratchet led the way down to the temple and the common mechs he volunteered with as a medical courier into the savage lands.

"Good morning Patch, Fixit." Ratchet greeted as he walked into the temple. Looking up from duties the healer mechs smiled widely at First Aid and the resemblance to Ratchet he possessed.

"Ratchet and who is this youngling?" Patch asked as he approached, kneeling to get on optic level with Aid.

"I'm First Aid." He looked up adoringly at Ratchet, "He's my creator."

"C-creator? I didn't know you were bonded." Fixit stammered with heated facial plating watching Ratchet with dim optics.

"I'm not, Aid was an unintended blessing." Ratchet grinned, waggling his optic ridges as the others chuckled, Fixit still watching Ratchet hesitantly as she returned to her duties. "What do you have for me this time?"

"Are you sure you want to bring a mere sparklet into the wilds? It's dangerous out there."

"Carrier lives in the forest with my brothers." Aid piped up smiling brightly as Ratchet flinched.

"What!" All the healers within the temple gasped staring at the small mechling standing to Ratchet's knees.

Ratchet sighed, "His carrier's family is all foresters."

"Wow, so you have a youngling with a bonded femme?" Fixit asked warily.

"Femme, enough, you have duties. See to them." Patch barked sending Fixit off to the many patients needing attention. "My apologies, she's become fond of you and this is quite a surprise."

"None needed," Ratchet replied, internally shuddering at the thought of being paired with a common femme.

"As for what we've got," Patch continued pulling small satchels of vials from a cabinet of medicines. "Here's supplies for the northeast foresters' station, and the western ford. A new camp to the west has reported some new virus in their ranks. Here's the supplies, list and map. We'll have more for you in three months as usual. Good luck."

"Thank you Patch." Ratchet took the proffered items, placing them in subspace and turned Aid and him back towards to scrub lands and the worn path that marked the uncertain border between the lands both Common and Free. They walked in comfortable familiarity, Aid marveling at the new novelty of walking on his common mech shaped pedes. Overhead the sun wheeled across the vault of the sky morning blue turning into evening's purple hues.

"Carrier," Aid whispered, "I smell something – yummy?" He looked up to Ratchet uncertainly torn between what his nose was telling as something tasty and an unfounded fear that he should not go near. "But it scares me."

"Hunters put out bait laced with poisons. It is the scent of prey that makes you hunger." Ratchet warned, "The talisman makes you fear." Ratchet stepped back optics shuttering as he scented the wind trembling as the heedy fragrance of half dead _something_ tainted the wind. "Run, the talisman will keep you safe, just run."

"What about you?" Aid clung tighter to Ratchet's leg, not wishing to be alone in the growing darkness.

"The hunters may have damaged an innocent. I have to tend to him. You will be fine, just go where the talisman leads you." Ratchet nudged First Aid desperately the scent of live mechs and metal snares growing heavier in the air making his spark pound with urgency. _"Now!"_

Aid fled from the path small pedes pounding into the bracken surrounding them, his form vanishing ino the deepening gloom.

Ratchet continued to walk down the path pulling his vial of medical energon doped to block his symptoms of being in heat. He swallowed some quickly and hid it once more. He had to keep his oncoming symptoms at bay, he had to keep his processors clear or Aid would be lost out there alone.

Once the calming affects of the medicine filled his lines he moved the final distance separating him from the source of the deliciously mouthwatering and stomach turning smell. Upon the ground lay a fledgling roc, the massive bird mech not even possessing its adolescent plumage would have stood taller than Ratchet.

Ratchet fought the urge to retch, tanks heaving at the sight. The infant creature had been tortured. Taloned pedes had been bludgeoned, shattered beyond repair. The oversized optics the roc chick should have grown into were but hollow sockets already infested with the pestilent, writhing shapes of maggots whose motions sounded as a million miniature marching legs of ants.

With a final choke he looked down on the creature, too young to even fly and felt his spark wrench in fear and grief. But for the grace of Primus alone that could have been First Aid. The infant creature before him stirred a deep rooted hate for the hunters who staked the poor youngling out to die. Deep score marks along the ground told of the young spark's struggles and slow agonizing death in solitude far from its loving carrier.

Ratchet swallowed the keen of grief he longed loose to the skies and moved from the grey frame. He strode swiftly down the road keeping to the path that led further towards the forester camps and his duties. It was getting dark fast, and he would soon need to find a camp site. Soon it would be too dark for normal mechs to travel safely and then hunters would realize he was not what he seemed.

A heavy tread behind him signaled he was already too late. "Pretty nasty thing back there, eh?"

"Very nasty," Ratchet agreed as casually as he could, voice still thick from the visage of the broken youngling.

"You're pretty shaken over a monster." Ratchet finally looked back at the mech behind him, the approaching mech was taller than him, broader. Green and purple the hunter seemed twice Ratchet's size, fingers still stained with dried flecks of the infant roc's life fluids. The sneering twist of the grey lips and all too calm red gaze poured cold terror into Ratchet's thudding spark.

"It was newly hatched, not even in its first molt. That creature had been tortured and left alive. Anymech would be horrified by the sight." Ratchet replied stiffly, unable to keep the queasy hoarseness from his voice.

"That would entirely depend on the mech." The hunter replied, vile grin widening.

Ratchet froze instinctively at the other's piercing gaze, terrified the common mech could see through his shifted plating to his true form within. A keening sound filled the air, making it heavy from the noise. Whirring, moaning the sound increased, surrounding Ratchet and the common mech. Terrified, Ratchet bolted frame shifting in the sparkbeat it took him to get into the air once more safely in his true harpy form.

Wings pumping desperately Ratchet tore through the darkness swift as an arrow. He angled upwards seeking altitude as fast as he could – and realized only too late he should have gone for distance. From far beneath him a jet of water slammed into him, pulling the wind from his wings, sending him to fall from the skies. The mech he had fled from, initially a mere speck upon the ground, became too big to fast as he plummeted to the unforgiving ground below.

Agony wrenched through him, freezing the breath in his intakes. His entire weight hung limply in pained shock from his trapped wing, ensnared within hanging chains decorating the trees along the road like a massive spider's webbing. Ratchet fought his pain, swallowed the agony and struggled to free himself from the chains, cursing in tongues as the shiny coating along the chains seeped into his plating slowly paralyzing his frame.

"Ha! Hook ya sly tosser, ya spied the beast again. That's three for three." A new voice chortled smugly. The hunters below pulled the chins from the trees lowering Ratchet's slowly freezing form.

"This new stupifier you made up works quick, Mix Master!" A different voice called out excitedly.

Ratchet tensed as his frame lowered, waiting until he could see the greedily burning optics of the hunters. Once the glowing optics of yellow and red came into focus he lashed out at the encircling forms. Long talons on grasping claws sunk deeply into plating tearing at lines and rending relays while his own body fought the paralysis slowly freezing his frame. Legs and talons flailing Ratchet continued his assault, the cries and screams of the hunters filled the night with their agony and ratchet's spark from their pain.

Undaunted by several blows that sturck his benumbed body Ratchet struck harder, seeking the kill as he fought until blackness enveloped him with sudden oblivion.

"Primus, what the Pit is this thing? It walks like a mech, looks like a harpy carrier and fights like the Unmaker incarnate." The smallest of the hunters demanded wearily, clutching his profusely bleeding arm and exposed internals.

"Hook, tend to Scavenger, get him functional. Mix Master, what the Pit! I wanted something that kept this from happening!"

"Calm down Scrapper, it worked. The harpy will be out cold for a good two days at least. Then we can bring him to Barricade for parceling." Mix Master soothed his leader. The hunters moved swiftly repairing their injuries and sealing their acquisition in a reinforced cage. All could only hope the harpy would not prove stronger than energy bars.

* * *

"So this mech goes walking by, all handsome-like fine as you please. Then Hook comes up behind the mech and gets the pretty bot all twitchy. Hook gives us the signal and we do the whirly things with some chains and suddenly that mech's a slaggin' harpy wingin' away like the Unmaker was on his tail feathers."

"And we brought him down. We know Scavenger, we _were there_." The first talker was shushed by a weary voice.

Ratchet slowly stirred, wings pinioned painfully behind him. He shifted, clawed feet forced into tight balls and mouth gagged, he was helpless. Tired, head spinning and every feather aching while his plating stung with pins and needles he wondered if this was what death felt like.

"But Bonecrusher, this has been our best haul yet!" Scavenger cried indignantly.

Ratchet slowly slitted his optic shutters, watching with dim optics as the blurry forms of the hunters lounged around their camp fire. Initially dazed, he could only let the world spin. Yet slowly the sounds of the world beyond the light of the camp fire reached his audios. Where he had been captured on the border of the rich scented scrubland and whispering forest they were now surrounded by the burbling of a river and the light fragrance of the open grasslands.

"It might be our best haul yet," Hook sneered, "It is also the foulest." He wrinkled his nasal ridge in revulsion.

"You're right, what in the name of Primus is that smell?" Scrapper demanded gagging.

"It's those gryphons! Something's got them hot and bothered under their plating." Long Haul cursed as he kicked a cage sitting across the camp from Ratchet's twin blue optics glaring balefully as dangerous rumbling hisses warned the mech off.

"Then what's bother'n them?" Bonecrusher demanded, looking about their camp warily as if itching for a fight.

The others rose to their peds as one, sudden nervous fear jangling through their lines like the uncertain fluttering of butterfly wings. Dangerous and scared they prowled camp seeking the hidden scent that made their most perilous acquisitions prowl their cage restlessly.

Ratchet watched dazedly as the hunters stalked through the camp. Uncaring as his processors drifted through his fog of pain he ignored the large masses in the cage across the camp from him. His optics closed of their own accord the camp fading into darkness. Struggling, he finally opened his optics again, the hunters now missing from the camp, their heavy treads could be heard in the surrounding plains lost in the darkness.

His world darkened once more, the tingling in his plating finally abated. In a moment of darkness that might have been an eternity a vision of First Aid flashed behind his optics, keening in fear within the sheltering embrace of Wheeljack's arms. As the image of his youngling faded Ratchet once more unshuttered his heavy optics. Once the camp returned to his vision he was finally able to focus on the glowing energy bars of the cage around him and the true extent of his bindings. The gag silencing his muffled curses was tethered through the bindings pinioning his wings and attached to the jesses about his ankles that forced his claws into tight balls. Only once he realized where he was did the pain from his neck arching sharply backwards set in.

As did the sudden burning ache filling his lines from his heat cycle. Ratchet thunked his head to the side in frustration against the floor of the cage. At this point his potion would not stop the symptoms. He knew the routine his frame put him through each year. Once the symptoms set this badly he normally had hide for the next ten days for the heat to burn out of his systems. He just only hoped that he would be free of the hunters and whatever other creatures they had here before something decided to use his bound state to get a quick frag in.

* * *

The first few days of their captivity they let themselves be held, allowed the strange creatures that had no true form to keep them in their cage of light. And, in the first burgeoning dawn, had looked to the horizon for their former clan; no one came. Their own grand carrier had forsaken them, cast them out for being hot headed and foolish.

Sunstreaker shook his head savagely, dispelling the memories. He glared at the glowing bars around him and his brother, wishing the burning pillars of cold fire would vanish. Each time they touched them they sent tongues of blue fire through them. The only bright spot in this whole mess was not being in their cage alone.

_:: What is _that_? ::_ Sideswipe purred over their bond, bright optics staring keenly at the new cage they had ignored for the past day.

Within the other glowing cage lay a strange figure. It was not a gryphon, none of their kind had such slender, willowy grace. Despite being bound in a painful reverse arch the other creature was mesmerizing – as was the subtle scent that emanated from the still figure's cage. Slowly, as the day progressed the scent increased while the brothers could only bide their time.

High above the wheel of the sky rotated sending the sun to sleep and awakening the thin sliver of the crescent moon. As if pulled from its long slumber by the rising moon the figure in the other cage stirred, hazy bird optics somewhere between lavender and purple stared uncomprehendingly out onto the camp.

Sideswipe's tail normally flipped and flopped, showing his need vor constant motion. Yet now it was completely still. Sunstreaker was rigid as a statue, staring intently at the bound figure across from them. _:: I want her. ::_

Sideswipe snickered, amused at his brother's intent desire. Normally it was Sideswipe who chased all the tails, dragging his brother along for the fun. He guessed this time it would be fun to tag along. Gradually the glowing optics across from them closed, the figure once more still as the wheel of night turned ever so slowly across the sky.

_:: She's awake again. ::_ Sunstreaker rumbled across their bond, waking Sideswipe up from a light doze. _:: Look at her ::_

Sideswipe could only agree. The figure was beautiful, especially now that its optics shone their true amethyst hue. Above her optics, a dark crest upon her brow made her optics more intense their large size only emphasizing her delicate frame.

Within the camp between their cages the hunters prowled, seeking the darkened grasses beyond their pitiful firelight. Once the hunters had passed into the darkness Sideswipe steeled himself sensing his twin equally tensed until the last hunter had faded beyond their hearing. Then as one entity they lunged in opposite directions shattering their cage with ease. The blue tongues of fire, once so agonizing were now mere irritiants to be ignored, shrugged off as they shattered their bonds and took to the skies.

Wings streatching in the wind they circkled once, diving to grab the annoying hunters in their front talons and tossing them into the mighty river nearby praying for their deaths. Then, knowning that their pleasures would not be interrupted they landed, stalking slowly to the other cage.

They looked down at the pinioned fomr in the cage, clawed bird feet wound tightly, tied painfully packwards against her wings, a leash from the gag she bore across her mouth pulled her head back nearly touching her foled talons. She looked up fearlessly at them, optics daring them, challenging them to try taking her in this bound state.

"Don't fret pretty one," Sunstreaker purred, "We'll take you in the skies." Within the cage those daring optics turned hard, glaring icily at them in her silence. "Close your optics, we'll break you free."

Glaring at them once more she complied, optics shuttering safely against flying debris. The pair looked her over one last time, admiring her leth build and slender grace. They couldn't wait to fly her. Finally they rose on their hind paws and balled their fore claws smashing the cage into splinters. Through the ruins of her cage they finally were able to reach her, drag her pinioned form from the rubble. Only then could they see her true size.

Neither small nor as frail as she looked she was still smaller than them. Yet she was a gorgeous harpy. "Don't move, I don't want to damage you." Sunstreaker murmured, lethal talon slicing neatly though steel cable bindings. "Now lets see you in the air,"

"Good idea," Ratchet launched himself into the skies once the gryphons had sat back to watch him. Frustrated at being bound and worried over First Aid he gouged his rescuers wherever his talons could reach as he took to the skies and fled to the distant forest that was now little more than a distant smudge in the darkness.

"She's a mech!" Sideswipe gasped disturbedly.

"I don't care." Sunstreaker snarled as he launched himself after the fleeing harpy, "He scratched me." They rowed through the air, their heavier frames slower to gain in altitude as they struggled to follow the lighter harpy. Behind them they heard a hated familiar sound, that of the hunters' water cannon seeking to drag them from the sky. They peeled off from their pursuit, turning on the hunters instead. They would get the femme-mech later.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: This was spawned by a prompt by DeathMustang on LJ. All characters belong to Hasbro, Takara and respective owners. The story line belongs to DeathMustang. I claim only the words.

Warnings: This chapter has some borderline dub-con and possibly disturbing imagery, read at your own risk.

* * *

The night whipped by in a dark, shapeless blur as Ratchet pushed himself through the cool air. His wings trembled tiredly as he dipped once, then twice; his frame shuddering and still woozy from the drugs and an empty tank. His optics wept with exhaustion and he could only find the first tall tree large enough to support his frame. He landed heavily, collapsing into a shuddering heap of misery as he prayed for First Aid to be safe as blissful recharge reclaimed him to the depths of oblivion.

Ratchet didn't know if he was awake or asleep. His frame floated in the gently muddled void he found himself in. Before him, rising like the trunk of a great tree, a spire of gold reached from the dark earth to the gently brightening heavens above. It was gold, shimmering soft hued gold. It was pretty. He could only wonder at the radiant image when the golden spire shifted. The long, magnificently carved visage lifted, pivoting about some point out of Ratchet's sight and displayed long golden fingers tapered to wicked ebony talons.

Suddenly awake Ratchet looked up past the unseen pivot point of the claw, past the three lined graze marring the smooth golden plating, further past the thick feathers of a regal neck ruff, and straight into massive optics the silvery-hued shade of freshly spilled mech-blood. Massive optics that held dark, fury froze Ratchet to his core, keeping him perfectly still on the thick branch.

At that moment Ratchet knew he was awake, and wished this was just a nightmare. It was the gryphon – a movement on his left made his optics break from the mesmerizing onyx pools ringed with iridescent silver and found eerily similar optics, only these held lust. It was the gryphons from the night before.

Ratchet's wings screamed from the intensity of his flight, he had no memory of launching himself from the great tree or taking to the skies. He could only fly deeper into the forest seeking the towering giants that he could lose his pursuers in. His achingly empty tank groaned in desperation, wings shivered weakly as he flew and he knew he had would have to land soon or face falling to his death.

Despite his lighter mass Ratchet found himself surrounded by the gryphons, their frames spiraling about his in a corkscrew of death. They spiraled closer as he streaked towards the forest, on the ground far below a flicker of white and red caught his optic, reminding him of his youngling lost and on his own. Suddenly furious Ratchet turned on the closest gryphon, talons raking across the red form as he streaked past. A shriek of pain filled the skies, igniting Ratchet's lines with rage.

He banked sharply, folding his wings and plummeting towards the yellow gryphon barely missing the wounded shoulder as he passed. Suddenly he plummeted, wings failing him. Struggling he pumped his wings desperately seeking altitude from the unforgiving forest rising much too swiftly to meet him. Wings spread desperately he finally caught a thermal, rising once more to face his pursuers.

* * *

Sunstreaker watched the form plummeting towards the earth in horrified fascination. The harpy fascinated him, switching from frozen in terror to hurtling through the skies. He was delicate and vulnerable yet powerful in the skies, a magnificent dancer as he flitted with the winds. Beside him Sideswipe tensed readying to chase the falling harpy and keep him from certain death.

Before action could follow thought the shimmering white form rocketed upwards, streaking towards them with indigo optics blazing fury. He rose swiftly, gaining altitude until he reached their position. In unison Sideswipe and Sunstreaker peeled away, paralleling the harpy's flight line. They spiraled as one, talons nearly touching, all optics tracking each other. Finally Sunstreaker could see the harpy in detail, his tail tingling as he took in the white vision before them.

The harpy was slim, delicate looking. His opalescent white plating contrasted sharply with his hibiscus red primaries and under tail feathers. The brilliant red plumage just above the equally red aft made him all the more delectable. Dark stormy grey crest feathers upon his brow made his already dark optics seem endless in the brilliant sunlight. Yet more than any feature the faint car tracing along his abdominal plating told of an infant harpy born from this mech. The harpy's many contrasting features were taken in as they danced upon the winds, the white flier matching their moves perfectly in a precisely choreographed mating flight.

_::He's starving,::_ Sideswipe's observation resounded through Sunstreaker's spark. His brother was right, the mech's plating was dull, optics were too bright while he increasingly fought to keep in the air.

_::Then we need to take _good_ care of him. ::_ Sunstreaker replied to his twin, while his processors scrambled to understand how all of Ironhide's drills and training could have left them so unprepared for this one single harpy. Their fighter instructor had taught them everything they knew, had raised them when their own creators had disowned them. Ironhide had been their creator and teacher in one, and the mech knew _everything_. Until now.

* * *

The fog of Ratchet's fury slowly faded, the gryphons no longer threatened him with their posturing. He focused once more on his flight, suddenly recognizing the patterns they were forming. This was a mating flight. He cursed silently, remembering his heat and knowing that he was too deep into the symptoms for his draught to make any difference.

Frustrated and tired beyond exhaustion Ratchet made a last ditch effort to lose his pursuers. He folded his wings at the lowest point of his spiral plummeting towards the forest and a small gap in the canopy he hoped the gryphons could not follow through. The dark rainbow hue of the forest filled his vision as the screams of smaller creatures assaulted his audios as they fled his approach.

Within his chest his spark constricted, the forest that had seemed so close was further than he thought. These trees were not of his home forest. Somehow the hunters had pulled him further south where the trees grew to massive sizes, their fan-shaped leaves larger than his wing span. The gap that had seemed so small was large enough for Tracks' entire harem and all of his brood to fly through abreast and never touch each other or the trees.

Despite the unhappy discovery Ratchet barreled through the open void leveling out barely above the rocky ground. Before him, his final chance at escape showed in a patch of brilliant sunlight. Vines spread across the spaces between the trees forming thick, woven webbing blocking larger fliers. He grinned savagely speed increasing as he approached the vines. A space caught his optic, just large enough for him to barrel through. Hopefully it would be enough to free him from the gryphons and let him find First Aid once more.

* * *

Sideswipe outpaced Sunstreaker, using the forest's breeze to propel him faster after the receding harpy that emanated such a delectable scent. The white wings that had shown such exhaustion suddenly pumped with renewed vigor drawing him closer to the looming vines just ahead. Sideswipe spotted the gap just as the harpy did and forced his wings to move faster. He had to stop the harpy from getting away.

He counted the distance to the vines as it diminished. The harpy would be lost to them in mere wing beats; eight, seven, six. Sideswipe balled his talons into a tight fist knocking the harpy off course and into the vines too soon. Instead of slipping through the pattern the blackish-purple vines had woven between the trees the harpy spun wildly, impacting the cables at an angle and sliding down becoming entangled in the naturally sticky ropes until completely restrained just above ground level.

Sideswipe sighed, grateful to finally be able to land. His frame ached from the long flight chasing off the hunters then following the harpy until dawn. They had only landed a moment when the shimmering white vision had taken to the skies leading them on their chase until now. He glanced up at the sky as his brother landed beside him spotting the sun just past its zenith. They had been in the air since just past nightfall.

The harpy would be a pleasant reward for all their efforts. His beak gapped as he panted, in intakes sucking in air greedily as he grinned. _:: And here I thought all of Arcee's lectures on the values of mating flights was viral coding ::_

_::It was, she never won a harpy::_ Sunstreaker replied haughtily, interface panel already dripping with his desire.

* * *

Ratchet shrieked his rage as he weakly thrashed in the constricting vines that had sealed his fate. His dual toned cry resounded through the forest and silence descended as the lesser creatures of the land hid from the greater hunters.

The gryphons landed before him, great wings kicking up dust and twigs, pelting him with debris. Ratchet wanted to fight them off, wanted to rage at them until they cowed and backed away from him, but he was too tired. He kept his head up, challenging them with optics that had stated to grow dark from lack of energy. They might take his frame, but they would never get his spark.

The gryphons advanced in unison, tails lashing out of sync with each other yet both now held deep lust in their optics. Ratchet shuddered, his frame still compelled by the heat cycle to lean towards them. His taloned pedes shifted within the vines' embrace, his legs spreading against his will to let the warm loamy breeze draw his heat sent to the encroaching gryphons.

The air felt cool to his overheated plating, gently toying with his interface plating, making him writhe within his bonds even as his spark and mind screamed for this to not happen. His distress only made his plating hotter, his scent stronger and the gryphons looming over him could only lean press their naires against his abdominal and thigh plating. They were intoxicated on his scent; dark optic cores dilated until only black stared from their faces.

Ratchet pulled against his bindings, his frame desperate for more contact. Inside he grieved for what he knew was coming, wishing for once that his carrier would came to save him and knew with devastating certainty that, like his first time, rescue would never come.

The gryphon's own musk rose in the humid air, overpowering his senses as his processors became fuzzy. His resolve to never give into them weakened as his helm grew heavy. All he could do was bow his head and lock his jaw against the keening of his spark.

* * *

Sunstreaker looked up from the thigh plating he had buried his face in. The harpy's scent was delectable in this forest heat. The humid air seemed to only heighten his sweet aroma ensnaring Sideswipe and him beyond any hope of turning from the gloriously proud vision bound before them. Dark indigo optics unsteady from hunger bore into his, seeming to look straight into his spark. Sunstreaker wanted this creature, wanted to see the pale grey plating of his face light up with joy.

Beside him Sideswipe buffeted him with a heavy wing, forcing Sunstreaker to step aside as the red gryphon gently reached up to the harpy's entangled frame, deftly slicing through the bonds. "Hush, hush." Sideswipe crooned to the shivering creature. Frowning as he finally noticed the slimy blue collar on the harpy's neck forcing him to remain in his winged mode.

"Sunny, he's got an inhibitor." Sideswipe looked to his brother, grateful when the other gryphon shifted form to gently gather the drained harpy in his arms.

"He's too light." Sunstreaker growled worriedly, hoping their perfect match was not to be found only to terminate in their arms.

"_He's_ right here." The harpy spoke, his voice rough and jaded and raspy with hunger yet hinted with the unique two toned quality only harpies could boast.

Despite the impertinent tone Sunstreaker could only smile down on the harpy as his brother removed the collar. The once white and red plumage shrunk down to reveal a pearlescent white mech with red hands and hips, the combination was optic catching on the slimly built mech.

"So you are." Sunstreaker purred, tilting the mech's face up for a lingering chaste kiss. Sunstreaker grinned into the kiss, the harpy had other ideas entirely.

* * *

Ratchet felt a spike of terror stab through his spark as the gryphon kissed him, the warm plating signaling his heat symptoms to take over. As suddenly as the fear had stabbed through his spark it faded, leaving only the mind numbing, burning lust that defined his existence during his heat. Untinkingly he grabbed Sunny's shoulders, lifting himself to the golden mech's face as he continued the kiss, delving deeply into the tantalizing mouth of the gryphon mech. His frame was on fire, liquid desire burning through every circuit making him a creature of need and desire. His legs wrapped firmly around golden hips his legs twining about his partners, sending Sunny to his knees.

They knelt together, hands mapping each other, learning in an all too swift crash course how to ignite each others' circuits. Strong hands traveled down Ratchet's chest, lightly tracing his spark scar from bearing Aid. It sent a burning passion into his interface panel he had never known could exist. Quivering with anticipation Ratchet could only grind himself against Sunstreaker, writhing as the golden mech's leaking transfluid smeared against Ratchet's panel making their grinding foreplay slick and sensual.

A movement caught Ratchet's attention, his frame moved wantonly against Sunny while the red gryphon approached, flask of shimmering amethyst energon held tightly in one hand as he savored the display before him. Leaning back Ratchet reached out to the red mech, scenting the other gryphon's desires as strongly as he could Sunny's and his own.

"Sides," Sunny gasped, fingers stimulating Ratchet's interface panel, "Hurry, I want him."

"Soon, dear brother, he's depleted, remember?" Sides held up the flask, tilting Ratchet's head back gently, feeding the white form prepared energon rich in additives to give him strength and endurance. The smile on Sides' face spoke volumes to Ratchet's hazy gaze that he was going to need every drop.

Ratchet's panel slid open under Sunny's questing hand as he drank from Sides' offering his optics never leaving the red gryphons as he drank deeply, frame stabilizing as the fresh energy hit his lines.

"What is that?" Ratchet panted, the last drop lingering on his lip like a glittering gem in the brilliant sunlight was lapped up greedily as Sideswipe leaned in for his own searing kiss. Trapped between the two Ratchet keened and writhed, optics gently weeping as they continued their ministrations.

* * *

Sideswipe tossed the flask away uncaring of where it landed as he crept behind the harpy mech with the bearing scar. The creature was a puzzle, one he desperately wanted to figure out, but for now savoring the mech would be enough. He kissed down along the harpy's neck and shoulder, tracing faint transformation seams and the perfectly curved plating from waist to flared hips, along the red curved aft and long, lean white thighs that wrapped so perfectly around Sunny's waist.

Reaching forward Sides pushed against Sunstreaker's shoulder, forcing his twin to take more of the harpy's light mass onto his frame as two of Sideswipe's fingers slid into the harpy's dripping valve. His digits joined Sunny's their fingers scissoring and stretching to prepare the harpy for the both of them.

_:: He has to be close enough,:: _Sunstreaker groaned across their bond, frame shuddering with his repressed need. At Sideswipe's jerky nod, his own arousal making him edgy to claim the harpy before a predator of the forest decided their delectable lover would make a nice snack – or a mate of its own.

The thought of losing the harpy to a random passing predator forced Sunstreaker and Sideswipe to pull their drenched fingers from Ratchet's valve leaving only enough time for them to press the stiff, weeping heads of their spikes against Ratchet's emptily clutching entrance. As one they pressed forward, Sunstreaker sealing Ratchet's keening cries with a messy kiss their glossas battling for dominance that swallowed the ringing cries. Sideswipe could only revel in the feel of the harpy, the slick channel swallowing them greedily while spiraling down almost painfully to constrict his and Sunstreaker's movements.

They were controlled by the mercy of this beautiful harpy, and for once neither felt constrained by the whims of a lover. This was perfect. Finally fully hilted within their lover they stilled their movements showering the frame between them with gentle caresses and passionate kisses until the white frame undulated around their embedded spikes, stirring a lust within them so base and primal they could only pull out of his valve and slam back in with brutal intensity.

The forest resounded with clanging metal on metal, their spikes pistoned within the harpy between them. The harpy's resounding cries now muted to deep, throbbing incoherent moans that vibrated through their spikes and sparks stimulating them past all sanity. There was only motion as the thrust repeatedly into the willing frame clutching so eagerly to them.

It was ecstasy as the silken valve around them drew them in further, clenched their straining spikes more desperately. All the while the deep moans pulsating through them made them dizzy as if drowning in sound and stimulation. Sideswipe wanted this to go on forever, repeat this brutal rhythm until the harpy gasped for them to never stop.

Finally the harpy's valve spiraled down on them, squeezing them with brutal intensity as fluids flooded his valve. As overload consumed the harpy the slick fluids further saturating the soaked channel made everything deliciously slick and so impossibly tight that movement was impossible. Still, they rocked within the harpy's clenching valve until their own overloads consumed them into momentary blackness.

* * *

Ratchet stirred sluggishly as he came down from his overload. The gryphons beside him groaned as the separated from him. "Whoa," He breathed, surprised that he had little strength left and slowly on-lined his optics, taking in the sprawl him and his lovers made. He was pinioned, gently with utmost tenderness by the two mechs around him. Sunny panted, flat on his back, optics dark but grinning stupidly at the slowly darkening skies while Sideswipe, draped over Ratchet's back plating, continually nuzzled at the harpy's back laving gentle kisses and murmured nothings upon sensitive plating. Ratchet was somewhat grateful for the weight that squished him ever so slightly. He felt grounded here, between two lovers he knew nothing of.

"We don't know your name," Sides finally spoke, breaking the fragile silence like a death cry in a calm night as he gently pulled out of Ratchet's valve and rolled beside Sunny.

"I'm Ratchet." He ground out silently torn between cursing himself for allowing this to happen, finding the hunters and making them pay for causing this in the first place, or just thanking Primus that now, at least his heat symptoms would fade.

"Ratchet, nice, I like it." Sides grinned dopily, optics darkening with recharge.

Ratchet smiled wistfully, "Why couldn't you two have found me eight years ago?" He shook his head in the silence then headed to the nearby river. He had to find Aid, but not smelling like this. After being lost and alone for days on end the last thing Aid needed was to think that Ratchet had abandoned him to have some fun.

He washed swiftly, setting a fishing snare to capture fish for the gryphons. It took all of a moment before he returned to the clearing and his still sprawled, completely exposed, lovers. They were handsome mechs, it was almost unsettling to leave them. Ratchet shook his head, optics landing on Sunstreaker's shoulder the graze from – the night before? Two nights ago? – Ratchet lost count of time and felt a thrum of fear for Aid run through his lines. Still that scrape was darkening with rust, if he left it alone Sunny would grounded, the shoulder too damaged to fly.

He cleaned and dressed the wound, applying a poultice of acidic berry juices and ground metallic compounds from the forest to dissolve the rust and allow his natural self-repair to take over. As long as the gryphon didn't do anything stupid he would be fine.

Finally free of his self imposed duties Ratchet sub-spaced his medicine kit, shifted mid step to his harpy form and took to the skies. He banked to the east, heading back to the pale, distant serpentine strip of road where his misadventures had all begun. 'Figures, the first mechs to treat me like a worthy mate aren't even my species. The only one of my species willing to touch me is a bastard, and the gryphons were a thousand times better than Tracks.' Ratchet thought with slight bitterness, although a last thought made him smile, either gryphon was far more beautiful than Tracks could boast.

He pumped his wings harder, gaining in altitude to hide his pale form against the gathering clouds overhead. "Primus, please protect First Aid." Ratchet prayed as he flied silently wishing the flight would be over already anxious to have his youngling back in his arms once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** This started as a prompt by DeathMustang on LJ. This chapter and the next will probably have more errors than usual, if you see any please let me know so I can fix them.

Warnings: Mentions of rape and neglect, possible disturbing imagery.

* * *

Hot Spot paced worriedly, continually glancing from the nest they shared with First Aid and the lone pile of pillows Ratchet used on occasion. Normally when Ratchet left nothing changed in the harem. Tracks continued his quest for more femmes, the harem sisters kept the communal nest and patrolled their territory. They, Hot Spot and his brothers, the only mechlings of Tracks' brood of nearly sixty, continued their training to become harem keepers when they grew.

This time, though something was wrong. Hot Spot had almost insisted that he go with, demanded that young First Aid needed a second guiding wing so Ratchet would know he was safe when he worked. Instead Spot had kept quiet. Now all his brothers were twitchy. Blades had been instigating fights with their sisters, Groove kept vanishing into the skies forcing their carriers to drag him back each night, and Streetwise holed up in the harem's library seeking information beyond Hot Spot's understanding.

His brothers were at odds in their own silent way, each straining to get away from the harem and their creator. Hot Spot paused; their creator was always at the center of their fights. Tracks belittled First Aid for being the creation of a carrier mech, mocked Streetwise for preferring the library to the hunt and tormented Hot Spot for being abnormally tall for his thirteen summers of age. Their creator had made their lives difficult for his own pleasure all their lives and Hot Spot had never done anything to stop him.

Hot Spot looked to the entrance of his shared room with his brothers determinedly, young optics hardening with resolve. His silence ended now. "Tracks!" Hot Spot stormed from the nest as a lifetime of torment filled his spark and made the repressed bitterness rise.

The mech he sought was just strutting from the harem wing, his brilliant blue plumage tainted with the stains of his pleasures with the femmes nearing heat. Hot Spot's bared his fangs in a silent hiss of revulsion. "Stand up, _creator_."

Tracks looked to his oldest mechling, regal optic crest quirking bemused at the youthful sneer. The youngling would be punished later. "What is it Hots?"

Hot Spot snarled bitterly at the hated nickname, "According to the Sisters' Writ a mechling is free to take three of his nest mates and seek his own territory when he stands taller than his creator."

Tracks nodded, the ancient writs written by the first sister-wives of their ancient king was the only creed of their race. "That is so," He looked to Hots and realized with a slowly sinking spark that he no longer could look down upon his creation. Tracks gaped as he looked straight ahead, focusing on Hot Spot's chest. He forced his boggled optics to look up, past the outward swell of the too sharp keel above the long, powerful column of the throat and finally met Hot Spot's chin. Tracks' neck cables protested looking so far up as his processors stuck on the fact that he had never noticed how tall the youngling was getting.

"When did you get so tall?" Tracks asked voice thick with smug pride. His optics glowed with a glee of having one more thing to crow about to any he could taunt with his glorious achievements.

"While you were too busy topping every aft you didn't have to fight for." Hot Spot snarled down at his creator, bitter over how Ratchet had been treated since the stormy night he had staggered into their nest half dead from starvation, terrified of returning to his home nest and his carrier's wrath. Ratchet desperate with a tiny bundle that was Aid as a young spark squalling in hunger, and nothing left to give.

Hot Spot had never forgotten Track's gloating sneer as he looked over the skeletal Ratchet too weak to fly, too hungry to eat. He remembered Tracks pulling Aid from Ratchet's exhausted frame, leaving Ratchet to perish in a unused nest as he drank in the glory of having a fifth son.

Tracks flinched from the spat words as if struck, optics wide as he recoiled. "Wha –"

"I am taking my three chosen nest mates to find my own territory and we will never come back." Hot Spot turned sharply, whistling shrilly as he headed towards the door. Behind him Blades, Groove and Streetwise boiled from their nest room arms laden with satchels of supplies. They passed Tracks, never looking to him nor the femmes staring out the doors, feathers ruffled from their recent mating, before vanishing out the door into the brilliant sky.

The Sisters' Writ was to be upheld at all costs, the many femmes of the harem knew this and waited breathlessly as the only mechs of their brood headed from their lives for the last time into the brilliant morning light.

* * *

"Wahoo!" Blades spiraled through the brisk morning air, cavorting on the breeze about his largest brother's frame. "We're free!" Streetwise and Groove stooped and dove, playing in the breeze about their largest brother's frame. Their play lasted only shortly as all felt a growing, distant panic fill their sparks as they left Tracks' territory. Here, at the border where the communal hunting territory of many clans overlapped they felt the stirrings of nease.

Silence filled the forest where screams and cries of the lesser creatures should have rung out in the daylight. No tree climbers swung through the lower branches, no dark-pelted felines stalked smaller prey. It was as if all life had vanished from this part of the forest, this wide swath of riches that had kept many harems in plenty seemed to have dried up overnight.

"I don't like it." Streetwise murmured, flying within Hot Spot's shadow, "Something's down there."

They knew, Hot Spot and his brothers felt the stirrings of evil in their home territory. As one they all hoped the annoying manticore, basilisk, cockatrice and chimera pests that prowled the smaller territories along the forest floor could handle the evil that stilled the forest life before it reached the harpy nests higher in the trees.

* * *

First Aid staggered through the underbrush lost in delirium. He had been so hungry, creator had vanished days ago and the sweet, fetid stench of the terminated roc slowly rusting in the sunlight had been too tantalizing to resist. Somehow between that first savory morsel taken from the carcass and now in this strange place he had lost himself as he raced in his dreams.

"Carrier!" Aid cried with all his might, tiny voice muted from tears and wracking illness that made his tanks heave until his frame ached and his throat wailed in agony. He had been right behind his carrier, but now Uncle Ratchet was gone. The regal frame of the harpy seemed to hover overhead calling to him and the kind two-legger stood just beyond the next hill, waving for him to follow.

Dark trees reached for him, fingers clutching at him as strange murmurs whispered on the breeze. The glowing sun in the blue sky split in two becoming optics that stared down on him as clouds became ethereal fingers that pulled him towards the heavens.

"He's burning up." A bright star in the heavens twinkled.

"Follow me, he'll be safe there." A shooting star vibrated in reply. The stars twinkled and vibrated as they spoke their celestial words slowly losing meaning as the bright suns faded into oblivion.

* * *

"Uncle Blurr, is Aid going to be die?" Streetwise asked softly, voice trembling as he stood by the taller blue carrier mech outside the sick nest where Wheeljack tended First Aid.

"I don't know, I don't know, he could die! Ratchet's not here and we don't know where he is and hunters are coming deeper into the forest! Ratchet is late – oh! He's late this time and I don't know what to do!" Blurr cried as he paced before the door, large optics growing wider with his worry as his voice screeched in despair.

"Hush, love," Wheeljack spoke as he left the sick nest, enveloping Blurr into a possessive embrace. "Ratch must have left Aid three or four days ago to draw away the hunters. In that area there's no water and travelers hunted it dry decades ago. Aid's in rough shape, Hot Spot, I won't lie to you. He ate something poisoned. Ratch taught me enough to keep my harem safe and basic treatments for poisons, but," He shrugged stiffly, "This needs a real healer and in this condition Aid is too weak to shift forms for me to take to a two-legger."

"What can we do to help?" Hot Spot stood from where he had curled up on the floor to hold Groove and Blades in a comforting hug.

"You four, Blurr, Blue, Cyclis and Kickflip will patrol in pairs. Keep high, watch for hunters and Ratchet. We'll give him two days, after that, he'll be in the talons of the First Sisters, and no mortal's concern." Wheeljack sighed, holding Blurr tighter as he prayed for his brother's safe return.

* * *

The towering ebony forest giants the harpy harems made their homes in towered leagues over the tallest trees of the canopy below. The black giants formed hollow nodules amongst their upper branches perfect for building nests in. Their branches spread wide with thick crotches like webbing between each where blown earth from the distant arid gryphon lands collected. Here, in the packed earth amongst the high branches Wheeljack's harem made their garden. Rare plants for medicines and easily digested energon precursors were tended to entice Ratchet's visits and offer him a place to call home.

Wheeljack stood on the packed earth of his harem's garden looking over the surrounding treetops in the early morning light Ratchet still had yet to show and this was his final day to arrive. By order of the Writ, come sundown Ratchet would be mourned and First Aid would be Wheeljack's charge. Storm clouds had rolled in during the night bringing the promise of heavy rain and more earth deposited on the canopy garden.

"We're heading out," Blurr called as he and his brood sister, Kickflip, headed from the harem. Dark blue and crimson red, the pair was a handsome set. Watching them fly off side by side made Jack sigh. He loved his mates, all six of them. He loved his fourteen younglings and was proud of how strong they were growing despite all being younger than Aid. Yet, despite his personal contentment he could only fret about the five mechlings in his nest and Ratchet lost in the wilds.

"You don't think Uncle Ratch is coming back, do you?" Groove asked sleepily standing just within the nest, sheltered from the gusting winds.

"I don't know," Jack sighed, thinking back before Aid was born when Ratch had left his and their creator's lives for two years. That absence still infuriated Jack, still made him seethe with hatred for the cause. Despite the darkness in his spark Jack could only shake his head. "When your creator caught my brother Ratchet vanished for two years. We didn't know what happened, or where he went.

"Our creator thought Ratchet had run off to the common lands to learn medicine." Jack sighed, turning to head back into the nest, "I just had a bad feeling for months. Then, one day Ratchet showed up with a bearing scar on his chest. He wouldn't tell me anything.

"I was so worried, I had only just won Bluestreak, our territory was so new that we had to fight for hunting rights daily. I wasn't able to find out what Ratchet was hiding so I went to our carrier." Jack looked to Groove, blinking in surprise when he realized the youngling now stood with three of his brothers.

"Younglings, you may not like hearing this." Jack sighed once more, "Tracks – raped – Ratchet. They did not fly, there was no courting. Ratchet had chased ten mechs off earlier, he was exhausted and Tracks waited until Ratch was asleep to strike. Ratchet told our carrier that he had been too ashamed to go home. He carried Aid alone, bore him alone, and nearly died providing for him when starvation drove him to Tracks."

"We know." Hot Spot spoke softly, "Tracks has recounted his 'victory' a lot over the years. He has always sneered at Ratch being a carrier. That was why I told Aid to go with Uncle Ratch this time. It's my fault he was left alone."

"Now stop that." Jack ordered gently, placing a hand on the taller youngster's shoulder, "You were protecting Aid from your creator, and don't think I didn't hear that bastard threatening to throw Aid to the mainticores when he shows signs of being a carrier." He glared up at Hot Spot, taking in the youngling's brothers with a stern glance. "If it had been my creator threatening anything of the like towards Ratchet I'd have done the same thing."

* * *

Ratchet pumped his wings harder in the gathering storm, strong winds buffeting him and threatening to send him crashing to the ground far, far below. The massive trees and sleeping gryphons were far behind him now. Before him, encroaching faster with each hard fought stroke of his wings the harpy forest approached.

"Only I'm not going to make it today." Ratchet sighed to himself as his day long flight caught up with him too swiftly. He watched as the still distant tan serpent that was the main road grew larger with agonizing slowness. The clouds overhead glowed with lightning as Ratchet banked sharply towards the nearest corner of the harpy forest. He would shelter in the trees to wait out the storm then he would find First Aid.

A multi-tonal shriek forced Ratchet to hover as it rent the air. He hovered, trembling in the buffeting winds while he sought the origin of the cry. He spotted a distant dot of crimson and a pale streak of dark blue against the clouds. The streak grew darting faster across the sky towards him until suddenly Blurr was hovering jerkily before him.

"You're alive! We were so worried I thought you were dead and Aid is sick!" Blurr babbled taloned pede grasping Ratchet's in urgency.

Ratchet felt his spark constrict then he was speeding towards First Aid, his wings propelling him against the storm. The journey was over in an instant and then he was at his youngling's side already shifted to common form pulling vials and powders from sub-space as he assessed his sparkling's condition.

"Aid, I'm here." Ratchet murmured as he mixed an antidote to the poison, hands flowing in their tasks as he studied Aid's shivering frame.

"Ratch," Jack spoke from the doorway, "We need to talk."

"About what?" Ratchet kept his back to his brother, dosing Aid as he spoke. Red fingers traced over the pale frame and crimson chest ruff making sure that First Aid was really there and counting each tiny, rasping, precious intake.

"Fine, you want to do this here then," Jack stepped fully into the sick nest, drawing a thick blanket across the entry. "This," he gestured expansively, "You vanishing without notice, never happens again. I waited two years to find your remains when Aid was sparked. I waited days for you and found my only nephew nearly dead, alone on the border of the Common lands and you nowhere in sight. You're not putting me through this ever again."

"There were hunters Jack!" Ratchet finally stood, snarling lowly at his brother as he stalked to the other white frame, "They caught me, they drug me away –"

"You're not in heat." Furious blue optics studied Ratchet's frame, "Did the hunters-?" He trailed off, unable to ask if common mechs had forced themselves on his brother.

"No!" Aghast Ratch waved his hands desperately, "Thank Primus no." He sighed, biting his lip before looking to his pedes, "They had gryphons."

Jack gasped in horror, "And the male caught you?" he asked, assuming the gryphons had been a mech and femme pair. Few harpies survived their encounters with gryphons. Far too often the gryphons took advantage of a harpy in heat, using its desperate need to mate to snatch a meal on the wing.

"Uh, yes." Ratchet hedged, not wanting to admit that two gryphon mechs had caught him in flight.

Jack grabbed Ratchet's slight shoulders looking him over minutely for damage. "If he hurt you I'll kill him."

Ratchet sighed under his brother's ministrations and fought the sudden urge to smile at the memory of the pair. "He – he was – he flew – with me."

"He actually courted you?" Jack asked gaping, "Why the slag did a gryphon court you?" He narrowed his optics at Ratchet's nervous shrug. "Are you sparked?" He demanded, warily eyeing Ratchet's sparking scar for any change in color that would come with carrying.

"Jack!" Ratchet's face flushed, "We just flew yesterday morning."

"Which means your heat is gone and you won't know for – what – three weeks?" jack asked thinking over Bluestreak's first sparkling and the nervous weeks of waiting before the smaller blue harpy showed signs of being with spark.

"Basically," Ratchet huffed, slipping from Jack's hands. He forced himself not to tremble, forced the memory of warm, large hands wandering his frame from memory. "Jack, the – the gryphon was good to me, unlike Tracks."

Jack watched Ratchet pensively, seeing a glimmer of affection for the gryphon in Ratchet's optics. "Get out there, the others need to know Aid will be alright." Jack ordered tiredly, pulling the blanket open to allow Ratchet to finally see Aid's brothers waiting anxiously with Jack's harem mates and small younglings all curled together in a ball of feathered misery.

Ratchet stilled at seeing Tracks' mechlings waiting for him, frame stilling as visions of harems going to battle over much prized young mechs filled his processors. "What the slag are you doing here?" His roar resounded through the small nest warren as he marched to Hot Spot, dragging the taller youngling from the feathery mass to his optic level, "You better have a damned good reason for not being in your creator's nest."

"He's no longer our creator." Hot Spot replied flatly, voice cracking as he tried to sound strong. His words froze Ratchet, the white mech carrier pausing to take in Spot's kneeling form still crouched on the floor yet easily reaching his height.

"Sisters' Writ," Ratchet nodded to himself and sighed as he released Hot Spot's shoulder. He gestured to Groove, Blades and Streetwise, "How will you take care of the others?"

"I'm not, we are." Hot Spot gestured between himself and Ratchet. "We go with you, we watch Aid when you're with patients and if we get separated Aid never gets left alone."

"No, I will be traveling through common lands! It's bad enough that I put Aid in danger. I can't risk all of you."

"No Ratchet," Wheeljack stepped between them, dragging Ratchet to him until they were face to face, "_You_ will take them with you. Hot Spot may be young, but he is strong. He'll be another set of eyes and wings out there, and he'll look after his brothers, you just get everyone home safe."

Hot Spot looked at Ratchet intently, "I nearly lost a brother Uncle Ratch, don't ask me to go back to Tracks and meekly wait for Tracks to barter me off to sisters of his choosing."

"I'll make you a deal," Ratchet sighed understanding too well the fear of becoming a bartering chit to one's creator, "You all come with me, you shift to common mech form when I tell you. You fly only when I say and if anything happens you grab Aid and you _run_. Do you hear me?"

"Yes Uncle Ratchet," Hot Spot and his brothers chorused together, each smiling to one another before they bolted into First Aid's room, curling about their baby brother now resting quietly on the cool berth.

Ratchet looked to Wheeljack pensively, "If anything happens to them I will never forgive you."

"Then you'd better take care of them." Ratchet watched with cold dread and fury as Jack turned back towards his mates, turning the mech carriers and femmes towards the sleeping quarters where they could cuddle up safely away from the storm.

"Uncle Ratchet?" Startled, Ratchet looked down to the second youngest of Hot Spot's brothers.

"Yes Streetwise?"

"Come sleep with us?" Bright optics looked up at him pleadingly, gently tugging him towards the large nest, three others sets of glowing optics begging from the darkness of the blanketed room.

Ratchet sighed shaking his head slightly as he smiled and joined the younglings on the large pillow bed and for the first time since he was a youngling Ratchet slept soundly curled with warm sleeping forms.

* * *

A stinging cold slap brought Sunstreaker out of his deep recharge waking with a start only to get another wet splat in his optics as rain pelted through the trees. He blinked at the lateness of the day, dark clouds tainted the shade of twilight sinking in the cool evening air. He looked to the flat rock he and Sideswipe had placed morsels to tempt the harpy that now were gone, the stone washed clean by the cascading rain.

He looked to his side, placing a hand on the cold dirt still bearing the impression where their harpy had slept as his spark sank. Despite his brother still dozing beside him, somehow managing to find a more sheltered spot that kept him dry, Sunstreaker felt alone. He swallowed bitterly before smaking his twin's helm, "Wake up."

Sideswipe jerked to full consciousness, "What the slag?" He looked from Sunstreaker's stiff stance looking towards the cloud masked sunset to the faint impression in the dirt from Ratchet's sleeping form, a large handprint in the middle giving mute testimony to their continued exiled fate.

"He's gone." Sunstreaker looked away grimly seeming unfazed by the desertion by their mate.

Sideswipe sighed, smiling at his twin. Their clan had thought Sunny didn't have a spark. They only saw his surface plating and the hard exterior he put up, but Sideswipe knew better. Sunstreaker had a spark that cared too much, felt too easily and seemed fragile for the ease with which it was broken.

"He had a bearing scar, bro. He's got a youngling, somewhere," Sideswipe looked his brother over, optics brightening as he noticed the bandaged shoulder from Ratchet's claws the night of their escape from the hunters. "But, he wouldn't have bandaged you if he didn't want us."

Sunstreaker looked to his shoulder, unconsciously smiling at the leaf wrapped over his cuts. "Or left us food," He looked to Sideswipe, gesturing to a scribble in the loamy soil pointing to the river and the top of a live fish trap jiggling from the thrashing struggles of its bounty.

"Then we'd better keep up our strength." Sideswipe leered, leading the way to the river and the trap filled to bursting with water creatures perfect for two young, very hungry gryphons. They grinned at the bounty, consuming all their tanks would hold before lying in a dry spot under the thickest tree, waiting for the rain to cease and the coming dawn.

"I wonder what he's like outside of the heat?" Sideswipe mused as the sky darkened towards black, the thick clouds blocking out the moon and stars as they slowly crawled high above the forest canopy.

"He has to be smart and clever," Sunstreaker replied immediately.

"But he has to be fun.

"He loves younglings and always wants more."

"But he knows how to take care of them. He's got to be protective and a great fighter, too."

"And he has to be soft, so we can take care of him."

"And randy, he's definitely got to be randy." Sideswipe declared finally, licking his lips in anxious anticipation; both nodding eagerly at his final statement.

"What if he doesn't want us?" Sunstreaker asked as the night slowly dragged on, the rain pouring about them forming a roaring waterfall they had to yell at each other over.

"How can he possibly resist us?" Sideswipe asked aghast as he lay back along the ground, his interface panel heating from memories of being with the harpy. The smaller mech's cries echoing in his processors. Neither could fathom the harpy actually denying them, but they had never been turned down by their trysting partners in the past either. They waited in anxious silence for the coming dawn taking turns dozing in the darkness as the heavy clouds overhead slowly rolled across the night black skies.

* * *

... Next chapter coming soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Jack woke early, the morning sky still black and cold from the night. The distant eastern sky slowly heralded the coming dawn with the vague lightening of the black vault towards blue. Pensive, he glanced off towards the curtained room that held his brother. His mind drifted back to life before Tracks took Ratchet away from him, to the time when Ratchet had been strong, undaunted by anything and free.

Ratchet never spoke of what Tracks had done to him, never breathed a word of how First Aid had been sparked. Jack only knew that whatever the despicable mech had done to his brother had made Ratchet soft. As younglings Jack had always longed to reach his majority, anxious to flee Ratchet's fiery temper and their carrier's acid cold superiority. Now, with his own harem and free of both he longed for Ratchet to come back fully, prayed for the day he would hear the long absent cursing that told him everything was alright.

"You're worried," Jack flinched as soft arms embraced him from behind, a shorter helm resting lightly against the middle of his back.

"I miss him, Blue. I miss how Ratchet used to be." Jack sighed, reaching a hand up to embrace the smaller hands within the embrace of his warm fingers. "He could curse our carrier out of the skies and into new molt with the words he used. Creator and I would always bet on how long it took for carrier to be rendered speechless when Ratch'd win their arguments. I always won."

He chuckled at the memories and watched as Bluestreak circled around him, moving to stand before him to encircle his waist with deceptively slender, strong arms. "The stories you told the younglings of him yesterday, were they true then?"

"Yup," Jack smiled crookedly, handsome features creasing with disquieted amusement.

"Maybe he's been quiet because everyone walks on eggshells around him. You always talk about the fights you two had, the times your creator would physically throw you both to the winds when you got too obnoxious. Whenever he's here you tiptoe around him."

Jack sighed, nodding his silent agreement. "You're right," He looked over Blue's helm, watching the sun rise. "I just don't know what to do." They stood in silence, holding each other close as memories and fears enshrouded them in pensive silence.

"You sorry, slagging, two-legger whelped, little glitches! Get the Pits back here!" A roar resonated through the nest as giggling younglings poured out of Ratchet's nook each bolting past Jack and Bluestreak as they swiftly leapt off the high branch into the thin morning air winging into the brightening skies.

"Morning Uncle Jack! Uncle Blue!" Hot Spot waved exuberantly as he passed before launching into the air, his brothers right behind him. The cackling youngsters vanished into the skies their laughter trailing after.

"Hot Spot!" Ratchet bellowed as he stormed from the nook, frame painted in pink blotches and magenta stripes, his face smeared green into that of the old mech's face all manticores bore. Around his arms lengths of vines had been wrapped ending in springy claws tipping over his finger tips.

"Wow Ratchet, you look great." Jack cackled as he looked his brother over. He leaned back in his chair nearly falling over as he laughed.

"Quit laughing, Jack," Ratchet smiled saccharine sweetly as he slowly advanced on his brother. The painted maticore mask turning his features into a nightmarish visage. "Or I might feel offended."

Jack's optics bugged, his laughter freezing for all of a spark pulse before his laughter bellowed all the louder, sides heaving with his mirth, "Sure – thing – carrier!"

Ratchet stopped in his tracks, optics wide as realization hit that he had used their carrier's favorite expression for being angry. "Don't get cocky brat."

"I'd never think of it, little brother!" Jack wheezed with a chuckle and a wince when Ratchet thumped his helm hard. Behind the brothers Jack's mates were torn between laughing themselves sick and protecting their mech as duty dictated by standing between him and the threat of Ratchet's fist. Their frames collapsed in the doorways proved they chose the former.

"Go get my obnoxious mechlings out of the sky before they get eaten while I clean up." Ratchet ordered as he vanished from the room leaving Wheeljack and his harem the task of finding the flown younglings who were undoubtedly laughing themselves sick somewhere in the lower canopy.

Ratchet laughed in the sunlight walking behind the scampering mechlings. The morning slowly brightened as they approached their first stop. The trees sang overhead with the playful breezes, their metallic song mingling joyfully with the laughter of Hot Spot and his brothers as they played their game of tag. This was the life he had sought for so long. Aid was happy they were free from Tracks' shadow and the dark memories of Aid's conception.

"Wait up!" Ratchet called happily once his brood had vanished over the next gradual hill. He jogged after the swiftly receding young sparks. He did not fear for them here, this close to the lands of the lesser rocs. The massive bird mechs took their prey from the sea and kept the hunters at bay. This territory was safe from Hunters that took the lives of the free mechs.

Movement overhead caught his optic, a faint golden glimmer sparkled in the sun and vanished before he could focus on it. He shook his head, forcing the traitorous longing in his spark to go away. He was happy. He swallowed tightly as a deep loneliness crept into his spark. If he was honest with himself, and he was damned if he would be, he would admit he missed the gryphons.

Ratchet snorted softly under his breath. Yeah, he was lonely for a pair of mechs he got to tumble during heat. He knew two things about them, their names and they were brothers. They could be serial killers or harpy eaters for all he knew. He shuddered; they could be searching for him now seeking to get him sparked anxious for the youngling to be born just to have a tasty delicacy of infant harpy hybrid fricassee.

No, Ratchet stood straighter and pulled his shoulders back resolutely as he once more loped after the receding younglings. The gryphons would not come back and if they did he would rip them to shreds before he let them touch one feather on his young.

Ratchet waved farewell to the forester village on the common side of the forest past the burbling brook that marked the boundary between free and common lands. His first stop on his journey was finally over with, and he could only smile. First Aid, Groove, Blades and Streetwise raced back and forth along the road, each adorned with a talisman from Wheeljack.

Their journey since leaving his brother four days ago had suddenly become long days filled with adventure. Every plant and animal had to be investigated by curious younglings. Boulders suddenly needed to be climbed and a million questions filled the air. Each morning found Ratchet cursing them roundly and chasing them covered in something distasteful and each chase ended in a pile of giggling youngling put down by the dread tickle-beast Ratchet would become. Despite his many failed attempts to throttle the imps Ratchet loved every moment.

Hot Spot walked beside Ratchet, smiling at his brothers, and grateful to be left out of their play for a while. "Thank you," Ratchet looked up at Hot Spot gratefully breaking the calm mutual silence that had spread as the drab village faded behind them.

"For what, Uncle Ratch?" the youngster asked confused looking around for something his larger frame might have unconsciously shielded his uncle from.

"For demanding to come with us," He nodded towards the playing younglings before them, "Aid needed his brothers, especially you."

"Uh huh," Spot grinned mischievously, "In other words you spend too much time alone and you've forgotten how much trouble undersized mechlings can be."

Ratchet sighed with a chuckle, "You got it in one, although you're normally the instigator with your silence. Still, it's good to have you all with me."

"We know," Hot Spot smiled, jogging ahead to capture First Aid in his arms, "I've got Aid!" He cackled and ran holding his youngest brother high.

"Ratchet!" Streetwise called, "You've got to save Aid!"

Laughing, Ratchet chased after Hot Spot. Streetwise, Groove and Blades each attempting to tackle their brother's legs. The family raced and tackled, played and tickled in the early afternoon sun. Distracted by their games they ignored how the forest quieted about them; overlooked the heavy anticipation building in the wind.

The cold winds high among the clouds bit sharply into Sideswipe's nares acting as a soothing balm to his rising fury that scorched his spark. His rage paled in compared to Sunstreaker's which writhed and seethed across their twin bond like a vile wyrm etching venom into their sparks. The slowly passing days had been filled with the silent misery of seeking their mate since they had won Ratchet in flight. The agony had only increased as their bound mate remained an elusive enigma somewhere in the forests that stretched past the horizon in all directions.

_:: The main road ::_ Sunstreaker sent intensely, his presence along their shared twin bond cold and emotionless as he forced Sideswipe to look to the faint brownish swath that marked the boundary of the harpy forest and the rolling burgundy plains of the two-leggers stretching out like an ocean into the distant horizon.

_:: Look :: _Sideswipe spotted a shimmer of movement along the roadway below. They banked lower, circling gradually as they finally caught sight of their beloved harpy traveling along the winding pathway bordering the lands on foot disguised as a common mech – with _five_ _younglings_. The group ran and giggled like new sparks scampering along the roadway. _:: How can an unmated bachelor have so many young?::_

The question was asked jadedly as Sideswipe searched the grounds looking for Ratchet's real mate. Numb, they could have been cut in half or beset upon by the flying bat djinn of the distant deserts and they would not have felt a thing. So numb they could not even flinch as a pale green mech much larger than Ratchet slipped from the forest behind the harpy family. The larger figure strode confidently behind the others, long strides eating the pathway between him and Ratchet. They both swallowed tightly at seeing the sire of Ratchet's many young slowly approach. _:: Let's go. ::_

Sunstreaker banked from the loving scene he was sure to witness. He did not want to see Ratchet embrace his mate adoringly, refused to watch the younglings clamber over the larger mech happily. He could not bear to watch what he wanted most to be held by another.

Laughing, Ratchet chased after Hot Spot, Streetwise, Groove and Blades each attempting to tackle their brother's legs. The family raced and tackled, played and tickled in the early afternoon sun. Distracted by their games they ignored how the forest quieted about them; overlooked the heavy anticipation building in the wind.

"Save Aid!" Blades hollered, barreling towards Hot Spot's knees forcing his brother to stumble just enough for Ratchet to grab Aid safely to his chest while Groove and Streetwise pulled Hot Spot to the ground in a breathless, cackling mass.

First Aid clung happily to his carrier, giving a raspberry to Hot Spot from the safety of Ratchet's arms. Ratchet knelt by the youngling pile setting Aid down upon his peds and reached to wrestle Hot Spot into submission - until dark laughter filled the air and terrified screams sounded as Groove and Aid were lifted away. Ratchet spun, watching as a massive mech colored green raced with First Aid screaming under one arm and Groove under the other.

Watching his younglings being taken from him filled Ratchet's vision with black fury. His scream rent the air echoing as he shifted, flinging his frame into the air. His wings beat effortlessly, overtaking the vile two-legger in a sparkbeat. Enraged he saw only blackness and heard only screams. Mindless he fought the one who stole his younglings, who dared touch their small frames.

A familiar scream rent the air, pulling Sunstreaker and Sideswipe back to the road. They darted to the place they last saw the one they had thought was their mate and watched as the green mech ran away from Ratchet's family carrying two younglings in his arms. Ratchet's cry still ringing in the air heralded the harpy attacking the two-legger, ripping off the mech's head and rending him into basic components, mechblood and circuits splattering all around bathing the ground in shimmering grey. Behind the grisly scene the tallest youngling gathered the others to him as all screamed and cried out for Ratchet to stop.

The twins acted without thought, folding wings to land behind the traumatized younglings. In fluid motion they shifted from gryphon to common mech and moved to calm and restrain the mech they had fallen for. "Ratchet!" They called to the enraged harpy as they firmly folded themselves around him, uncaring of the gore that streaked their chests and stained their plating.

Slowly the vicious talons ceased their attacks and Ratchet stilled, his optics clearing and sense returning to him. He looked to his younglings, struggling from whatever restrained him and moving to hold them close. "Did he hurt you?" The words were harsh, promising death anew to the slaughtered hunter as Ratchet looked Groove and First Aid over carefully.

"You were scary." Aid whispered, hugging Ratchet tightly. "You were way scarier than grand-carrier."

"Scarier that grand-carrier, huh?" Ratchet smiled and held Aid close, pulling Groove and the others close about him. "How did you stop me?" He asked of Hot Spot, frowning worriedly when the eldest youngling pointed behind Ratchet with a trembling finger.

Ratchet turned slowly from the clustered youngsters not wanting to see the thing that cowed Hot Spot and scared Groove. His optics landed on them finally, the mechs from the giant forest. The mechs of crimson and gold, "Oh slag," Ratchet gulped nervously transforming once more to his harpy form to mantle his wings protectively over his brood.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: This was a prompt by deathmustang from lj, she gets all credit for the story idea, I'm just putting it to words. All Transformers belong to their respective creators.

* * *

Sunstreaker stared uncomfortably at the mech he had thought they had won and lost with disturbed worry. ::We didn't force him, did we?::

Beside him sideswipe shrugged with a nervous twitch. Rape among gryphons was a death sentence, and both knew they would willingly throw themselves before the hunters than live with the realization that somehow they had forced themselves on the beautiful harpy.

"Get off the path, fly!" Ratchet's hiss goaded the cowering younglings into flight. The swift roar of wing beats filled the air and vanished in an instant leaving the brothers standing alone on the pathway, momentarily numb that their hard fought mate was fleeing in fear of them.

The pair threw themselves into the air, their frames shifting from mech to gryphon through the initial arc as their forms leapt into the air. At the height of the arc their wings spread to take up the wind, their talons clawing to gain altitude as they gave chase to the swiftly receding aerie of harpies. Red and gold they rowed their wings as fast as they dared slicing through the air at speeds that made their optics close to mere slits against the wind. Yet, the harpies were slender, their long frames accented by short wings that moved easily through the thick canopy. The brothers were forced to soar overhead tracking their prey through the greenery. The colorful frames below them shimmered in the sunlight dappled shade.

Before them Sunstreaker spotted a break in the canopy allowing the twins to dive through the wind woven branches to follow the harpies in the lower canopy. Long gryphon feathers skimmed along the leaves casting a shimmering shower of debris in their passing. Now sheltered within the humid swelter of the jungle their size forced them to glide on half folded wings, made them tighten each strut and cable in their frames to keep their forms aerodynamic enough to escape the inexorable pull from the ground below.

Suddenly, the smallest of the harpies faltered ahead of them its frame collapsing in flight before spiraling towards the unforgiving ground. Sideswipe vaguely heard a dual-toned shriek of anguish as Sunstreaker barreled through the void between the tiny frame and the lethally spiked roots jutting from the earth. Sideswipe remained where his frame had seemed to freeze in horror as Sunstreaker approached the tiny falling bundle in slow motion.

* * *

Ratchet shrieked when he glanced down watching helplessly as Aid fell away from him faster than he could dive. The tiny body rapidly approached the ground forcing visions of the small broken remains Ratchet would find to play behind his optics until a sun yellow streak snatched Aid from the brink of death. Pulling up short, Ratchet gasped for air as Sunstreaker twisted in mid air, claws gouging the earth deeply to propel his burdened frame up into the skies bypassing the harpies to circle back to his brother hovering in the same position in the shadow of the metallic trees.

The golden gryphon had Aid. Ratchet hissed in fury, winging towards the hovering pair to retrieve his youngling. Regardless of their size he was undaunted. Gryphons ate young harpies, and Aid was the perfect size for a tasty morsel. He closed in on the golden form holding his youngling shrieking his rage until the wind suddenly held him back keeping him from moving the last tingy clawlenth to his barely breathing mechling.

"Not so fast," a warning voise hissed in Ratchet's audio the rich commanding tone seeming to come from everywhere. Ratchet struggled, clawed at empty air and struggled against the arms that kept his frame pinned and massive talons that held his wings pinioned in mid air while the red brother held them both aloft with slow steady wingbeats. Ratchet snarled at the red mech nuzzling his neck, "We have questions."

"Give him back!" Ratchet snapped furiously struggling against the plated steel talons holding him fast. Around them Hot Spot and his brothers circled hissing and darting, too young to know how to attack and too ignorant to flee from opponents they could never hope to best.

"Bring him," Sunstreaker wheeled in the air heading for a forest giant bearing a resplendent lightning scar that formed a cave within the massive trunk. Sideswipe followed still carring the struggling Ratchet while the young harpies struggled valiantly to keep up with the larger mechs. Sunstreaker landed within the blackened space immediately finding him ringed by mantled, hissing young harpies as his brother landed behind them with his burden. From the red gryphon's embrace Ratchet continued to rage, his vile curses and terrifying threats unceasing since Sunstreaker had taken Aid to the darkened nook.

_:: This ends now ::_ Sunstreaker sent over the twin bond as he shrieked a piercing cry that made the harpies shrink in on themselves. The younglings cowered to the floor as Sideswipe gently pushed Ratchet towards them. Sunny watched in seeming slow motion as Ratchet flung himself over the youngsters protecting them with his frame. Sides ignored the white mech he had desired so, torn from the repeated finding and losing of their lover in the span of moments. Spark splintered from Ratchet's behavior Sideswipe placed his spread talons against the tree as power surged through him creating a barrier to keep the harpies sealed within the tree's nook with them.

"Keep screaming, harpy." Sunstreaker rumbled, "When he wakes he'll be all the more terrified." The yellow gryphon shifted the tiny harpy fledgling in his talon causing the clustered harpies to still in fear.

"What do you want?" Ratchet finally asked desperately unable with force or words to make the gryphons back down and return his baby to him.

"Answers." Sideswipe spoke from behind approaching the clustered family, optics softening as true fear filled the optics that darted between him and his brother. Sideswipe laid down, sighing in frustration, "Wouldn't it have been easier to just talk to us?"

"No creator has ever just 'talked'" Ratchet hissed, "Especially not after taking the hint to leave me the frag alone."

"You didn't want us?" Sunstreaker asked softly, frame stiff as he finally understood. He set Aid gently on the ground, "Do all harpies act like conniving femmes?" Sunny turned from the slowly breathing figure, "Take your youngling."

Once Sunstreaker stepped away, frame pressed against the side wall Ratchet scrambled to collect Aid, frame shifting to his common form as he scooped the youngling to his chest and moved back to the other four.

Hot Spot looked between the two gryphons and Ratchet, optics widening with surprise. "You were in heat when you left the nest." He looked to his brothers from where he crouched over them protected by Ratchet's frame that held the unconscious Aid to his chest.

Streetwise looked to Spots then back to Ratchet realization dawning. "I need my book!" He shifted to his common form as Spots did the same and reached into his big brother's sub-space storage to retrieve the worn leather tome. "Gryphons mate for life and exchange offerings of food when courting to prove they each can provide for the other. If the gifts are returned and they do the nasty there's no turning back."

Spots looked to Ratchet watching his uncle's plating pale from opalescent white to pure alabaster as Streetwise recounted his readings. Over them the gryphons refused to look at any of them or each other, frames radiating betrayal. "But harpies are different." Spots spoke up looking meaningfully at the red gryphon, "Harpy mechs can challenge any carrier in heat to a mating flight. If the carrier wins she can choose to accept his advances or make him go away. If the mech wins she _has_ to accept him. Any offerings are reciprocated if the tryst was favorable and both move on as if _nothing ever happened_."

"What!?" The gryphons roared in unison staring aghast at the harpies.

"So, what, you guys roam the forest looking for femmes in heat?" Sideswipe demanded.

"No," Ratchet looked away from his family and the gryphons. He did not want them to see how much speaking of having a family hurt him, "If a heat-tryst is favorable they can seek each other out after the heat has passed. One courts the other and if they want they can bond. Once a mech has his three sisters he selects a territory for his harem."

"Sisters?" Sunstreaker gagged.

"Not real sisters – or at least not _his_ sisters. The term refers to the first harem. The harpy king courted a femme that was beautiful and fair. She had two sisters, one strong and sleek the other powerful and warlike. Smitten with all three he won them in mating flights and fighting bouts then took them to the World Tree he made his home in. They were the first harem. Few harems are made of real sisters but it does happen." Streetwise filled in, optics shinning as his voracious reading habits were finally rewarded.

Sideswipe looked to his brother then down at the red and white harpy they thought they had won. "So that out there was just a tryst? It meant nothing?"

"Let my younglings go," Ratchet sighed, "Aid collapsed from exhaustion and I need to get energon in him before he shuts down permanently." He looked to the two gryphons who had actually courted him, who had willingly cared for him when no other harpy aside from his brother had ever done so. "Please?"

Sunstreaker sighed, head bowing, "Fine, go."

Hot Spot moved carefully away from Ratchet, feeling the older harpy's absence with aching clarity. Ratchet was older, wiser and a better fighter than them and filing past the massive red Gryphon with the night black crest only made their youth more real. Hot Spot mantled his wings over his brothers as best he could, keeping himself between them and the glaring gryphon. Once free they slipped through the shimmering barrier and flew.

Once the younglings were gone the twins looked back at Ratchet who fussed over the small youngling cradled in his arms. Soft crooning and hushed words accompanied the questing fingers that checked Aid over for any ailments. "Thank you," Ratchet finally spoke looking up to Sunstreaker, "For saving him and not eating my younglings."

"Eat –?" Suddenly Sideswipe cackled, laughing so hard he collapsed against the wall and fell to the floor. "We're – we're"

"We're southern gryphons," Sunstreaker snarled, "We do not eat other winged ones." He made a distasteful sneer, "Feathers stuck in the craw is disgusting."

Ratchet looked from one to the other, shoulder slumping in mortification. "So, you were never going to eat Aid"

"That little thing?" Sunstreaker snorted, "He wouldn't count as an appetizer."

"Hey! He's good sized for his age." Ratchet rumbled dangerously, optics flashing at the insult to his yongling.

"For a harpy, maybe." Sideswipe teased, grinning hugely. "You really thought we were going to – eat – your kids? Is that why you fled?"

"Of course!" Ratchet snapped. "I'd take you both on to protect them but they can't out fly you two yet."

"So you led them to safety." The red gryphon's smile widened further. _::He loves his younglings! He's smart and clever and a pit of a fighter for being so small. ::_ He sent to his brother across their bond tentative joy filling his spark.

_:: And he's fragile, ::_ Sunstreaker replied, optics slitted dangerously as he watched the fussing harpy, _:: Someone hurt him and when I find out who it was ::_ His threat went unsaid, the promised malice in his spark sending thrills of anticipated violence through Sideswipe's spinal struts.

Oh yes, someone had hurt the pretty harpy and that someone would pay.

Sideswipe's head snapped up, optics shinning as a thought seemed to physically strike him. "Do over!"

"Do _what?_" Ratchet glared up at the seeming idiotic gryphon.

"Let us try to win you?" Sideswipe asked, "The – thing – in the giant forest, it happened and we can't change that but," He shrugged helplessly as words failed him, "Do over?"

Ratchet felt his spark lighten at Sides' floundering. His loss of words was endearing somehow. Still, Ratchet only scowled as he looked between the pair. Tracks had always worn a pleasant expression before – Ratchet cut that thought off. He'd dwelt on Tracks for long enough.

"Then what?" Ratchet asked blandly, "Take me to your clan?"

"Nope," Sideswipe replied with a grin, "We're exiles."

"What did you do?" The harpy demanded, shoulder's stiffening as he drew Aid impossibly closer to his spark.

Sunstreaker finally stood and crouched before Ratchet, "We were exiled for refusing to take separate mates. We wanted to have the same lover, share the same home. According to our people two mechs sharing the same mate is taboo. We should have been trampled as new sparks, cast out as fledglings and left to die. It would have been better than for our clan to witness us, two brave strong warriors degrading into lowly outcasts." His words were sneered, spoken darkly.

"They – your kind – kill youg-younglings?" Ratchet's words failed him as he sheltered Aid to his spark, holding one hand over the small helm and bowing his shoulders over his sparkling to keep him safe.

"Yes," Sunstreaker replied. "Don't harpies?"

"Never!" Ratchet vehement reply took the brothers aback, "Several of Tracks' femmes have been attacked for their younglings. Some harems have been wiped out so the mechlings could be incorporated into other clans. That's why I returned to the bastard so I would not lose Aid. Alone I was a target, other harems would have killed me for Aid. I didn't want Tracks getting his hands on my sparklet but I had no choice!"

Sunstraker looked to his brother and both nodded silently. The harpy's tirade had just told them who needed to die. This 'Tracks' would suffer for hurting Ratchet. "And the others?" Sunstreaker tipped his beak towards the entrance where the others had vanished though.

"They're Tracks' by others of his harem. When I took Aid this trip they demanded Tracks uphold the Sisters' Writ and left to follow."

"What writ?" Sunstreaker demanded

"Streetwise, the one with the book, spoke of the first sisters to form a harem. They wrote a code of ethics call the Sisters' Writ. When a mechling becomes taller than his creator he can leave the harem with three of his nest mates. Spots chose his half-brothers."

"That's not fair." Sideswipe whined, "We had to stay with our guardian until we were of mating age."

"Then we had to live in that horrid bachelor cave with the others for seven years." Sunstreaker continued.

"Guardian?" Ratchet looked between them, "Not your creators?"

"No, they abandoned us when we were pre-fledgelings. Our clan leader convinced them that twins were evil portents. Our guardian was from the northern tribes – he was outcast for refusing to eat harpies – and thought she was full of monocerous piss. He took us in and raised us."

"And then let you get outcast?" Ratchet demanded, wondering just what kind of species he was tempted to get himself involved with.

"No! Clan leader sent them away for our testing day, she rigged it so no one would stand up for us. Besides, we're full grown and Mia has put off having her own younglings for too long." Sideswipe smiled. "Our guardians kept us from being outcast long enough. Now they're free – of us." His shoulders slumped.

Ratchet sighed, the brothers had been treated as roughly as he had. Families kicked them out, others betrayed them and all of them had to give up their hopes for normal lives. Still, they were good warriors. The hunters seemed to be encroaching everywhere and Ratchet could not keep his younglings safe on his own. The hunter today proved that.

Finally he looked to Sunstreaker, "I'm not saying yes. You can come with us if you want but don't get your hopes up." He looked sternly between the pair, "My younglings _always_ come first. If you ask me to choose they win hands down every time. If you threaten them, scare them, or hurt them in any way we're gone and you will never find us. If one of them is killed by you intentionally or not, you won't live to regret it."

"Carrier?" Aid's voice rasped softly, "Where'd your scar go?"

Ratchet froze, behind him the sound of ergon-fruit hitting the floor filled their little room as four younglings gasped. Slowly, hesitantly Ratchet looked to his chest where Aid's little hand rested and saw only smooth opalescent white plating. "You've got to be kidding me."

In a flash Hot Spot leapt over Ratchet, howling his rage as he flew towards Sunstreaker fist raised, "You sparked him-uhf!" Spots gasped when he was flung to the floor, the breath knocked out of him while Sunstreaker easily kept one massive talon spread across his chest to pin him to the floor.

"Sparked?" Sideswipe asked nervously, looking at Ratchet with tremulous hope.

"When a carrier's scar vanishes after a heat-tryst it means he _might_ be sparked." He glared at Hot Spot, "You should know better. I won't know for another –" Ratchet counted on his fingers going back the number of days since the gryphons had won him in flight, "Nine days. I won't know anything until then."

Sideswipe snorted, and shifted back to his gryphon form sitting disgruntled on his haunches, "Let the kid go."

Sunstreaker snorted and let Hot Spot up, "So where does this leave us?"

"Right where we were." Ratchet snapped as he held several small berries for Aid to eat. "Actually, not quite." He shook his head, "I might be sparked, I might not, but _if_ I do end up carrying I can't protect my younglings. I might at first but I can't go back to Tracks with another's sparklet in me and they can't go back at all. I need – I need guards." Ratchet finally admitted looking at the pair helplessly.

"No," Sunstrekaer shook his head, optics slitted defiantly, "We will not be just your guards. They," He pointed to the clustered younglings, "Need to learn how to fight, and you can uphold your side of the bargain."

Ratchet huffed, "Fine, still no promises."

"We don't need any," Sideswipe grinned then frowned as he took in the assortment of fruit the younglings had brought back. "How do you expect them to grow strong on _that_?"

"What do you mean?" Ratchet demanded indignantly.

"You are harpies, you have plate ripping fangs for a reason." Sideswipe shook his head despairingly. "You," he pointed to Blades, the fiercest of the youngsters, "You're getting a fishing lesson."

"Me too?" Streewise and Groove asked in hopeful unison, bright optics looking up at Sideswipe pleadingly.

"Sure," Sunstreaker rumbled, "You guard them." He ordered Hot Spot pointing to where Ratchet sat with Aid still in his lap as the youngster dozed once more.

"They better come back without a single scratch." Hot Spot warned.

"Or what?" Sunstreaker demanded with a snort, "Don't make threats unless you can back them up." With his final words Sunny turned from the small hole in the massive trunk and followed Sideswipe to the river.

"Aren't you moving a little fast?" Spots asked worriedly as he looked on Ratchet with worry creasing his young brow.

"Fast?" Ratchet asked exasperatedly, "Fast was me killing that hunter. This," he waved his free arm around him encompassing their current situation, "is insane. My scar should still be visible, they should have left when we fled and – and Spots, if I am sparked you kids are not strong enough to fight off opposing clans that will want my sparklet when she comes. I can't endanger 'Jack's harem and those two are the best chances we've got to get you five trained in fighting, me safe from other clans and Tracks permanently out of our feathers."

"I know, but Uncle Ratch, how – how can we trust them?" Spots asked worriedly, torn between hovering over Aid and protecting his siblings from the gryphons.

"What choice do we have? They're bigger, stronger, better trained and a Pit-load more lethal than us. I am a healer, when the time comes I can give them a mild poison that will keep them down for days. We'll get away from them then. Right now, with so many hunters around I'd rather take my chances with the gryphons."

Hot Spot nodded, conceding. He hadn't been able to do anything when the hunter took Aid and Groove. Only Ratchet had saved them. Hot Spot thought of Tracks' harem, how when any of the femmes got sparked they were protected by their sisters and once sparked they never traveled alone. Ratchet was right, they didn't have a choice.

* * *

Streetwise watched intently as the gryphons circled over the stream then dove skimming along the water and coming up with a massive wriggling fish in his talons. Each of the gryphons had caught a fish already. The golden one dispatched the fish and laid it's still body next to the other as the red gryphon landed before them. "Your turn."

Groove and Blades took to the skies circling just as the gryphons has while Streetwise stayed below. "Why aren't you up there?" The red gryphon asked.

"Creator never went after Uncle Ratch, no one has ever come for Uncle Ratch at all. But, you did, why?" Streetwise asked, intelligent bright optics staring up at the gryphons.

"We thought we loved him, that we had won him in return." Sideswipe looked over Streetwise's helm to the distant tree Ratchet waited in, "We came for him when he didn't come back to us. Now, I don't know."

"Please, I know Uncle Ratch is scary when he's mad, and he says bad words when he's pissed. He yells a lot and hits his patients when they don't behave. He's got a short temper, but he's nice and funny and takes better care of us than Tracks ever did. He plays with us and lets me ask all the questions I want. Creator used to always yell at me to shut up.

" Please try to fall in love with him?" Streetwise hugged Sideswipe's nearest forearm, stepping around the massive talons on the ground and coming up only to the thick shoulder, "Creator never taught us anything either."

Sideswipe could only nod mutely, optics stinging with emotions he thought he'd never feel, "We'll try, no promises."

"Good!" Streetwise smiled hugely launching himself into the air joining his brothers as they repeatedly swooped and dove chasing away the fish more efficiently than they could catch them.

"You're getting soft." Sunstreaker rumbled.

Sideswipe could only grin stupidly and look back at his arm in disbelief. "Why the slag are they so damned cute?"

"Because they're – they're not his, are they?" Sunstreaker paused remembering that each little mechling came from a different carrier.

"Nope, but I still blame Ratchet. He's done something to them that just makes me _like_ them." Sideswipe huffed, "I'm getting soft."

"Yes, moron." Sunstreaker shook his head despairingly then leapt into the skies to keep the kids from suidiciding on their increasingly lethal stoops towards the rocky river. Sideswipe watched from below as his brother attempted to corral the younglings – and failed when the attempt turned into a game of 'tag the gryphon'.

* * *

It had been hours since they left. Aid continued to sleep in fits and dozes when his energy plummeted. Hot Spot had moved to stand outside and Ratchet was left with little to do but pull out his many healing packs and salves he kept in sub-space. He checked his supplies, used some raw materials he kept on hand to make more herbal blends. Rearranged vials that had gotten out of order and created lists of supplies he would need to obtain from the forest to keep up his stores.

The sun was beginning to fade and fear started climbing up Ratchet spine when finally, Hot Spot stepped back inside, "They're back." The mechling giggled.

"Wha –?" Ratchet stared as two soaked gryphons hauled themselves into the tree bole carrying his three younglings on their backs with two massive fish and several smaller ones.

"How – in the name – of Primus – do you – keep – these _things_ – in line?" Sunstreaker panted as Groove and Blades slid off his back with their bounty and ran giggling to Ratchet.

The healer fought to keep a straight face, and failed as he started cackling. "You two smell terrible."

"Thank you, we hadn't noticed that we smelled like old fish and stagnant river water and muck!" The golden gryphon snarled half heartedly.

"That was fun!" Streetwise crowed as he gave Ratchet his share of the river spoils. "They taught us how to fish like the Rocs do!"

"I see, and you three did great. And these two, they're beauties." Ratchet lifted the biggest of the fish that each were nearly as long as First Aid, "You three must have worked very hard to catch them."

"Hey! We caught those!" Sideswipe objected, while the yonglings fell into fits of laughter.

"You caught these fish? Well, if my younglings had done this I would be impressed, but they're so small compared to you two." Ratchet replied flatly, giving Blades a secretive wink.

"What!" Sunstreaker growled, "Those are big fish you – you – you're laughing." He hung his helm while the younglings fell into renewed fits of giggles. First Aid sitting groggily on the sidelines smiled wearily before lying down again and Hot Spot laughed hardest of all.

* * *

Ratchet finally got the last of his brood asleep in their circled clump on the impromptu nest. Collected leaves and massive fronds from the surrounding forest had made a decent cushion for his young ones. Now, free of prying ears and sneaky little optics he could finally speak to their saviors.

"Thank you, both of you." Ratchet looked at the brothers sitting tensely outside the tree bole.

"For what?" Sunstreaker demanded, "Teaching those little hellions how to fish or being the butt of your jokes."

"Both." Ratchet shrugged, "Hot Spot needed to see you two as being less threatening and I needed to make sure Blades, Groove and Streets knew they had done well. So thank you, again."

Sideswipe looked over at Ratchet, a slow calculating grin spreading over his features. "Then, I think we need to be rewarded for our efforts." He shifted back to his mech form and swiftly stole a light kiss from the harpy.

Ratchet's breath hitched as his lines lit on fire from Sideswipe's touch. He had never been approached outside of heat, never knew he could feel anything for another not brought on by mindless need. He swallowed tightly then threw caution to the wind. Even as Sideswipe pulled away with a cocky smile Ratchet shifted to his common form and pressed tightly against the red mech.

"Are you sure?" Sideswipe breathed, grinning hugely at Ratchet's deciseive nod. "Just not here, right?"

"Yes," Ratchet swallowed, lying his helm against the hollow at the base of Sideswipe's throat. "I don't want to wake them,"

"No problem," Sunstreaker scooped Ratchet into his talons, flying into a tree across the clearing.

"You owe me two fish tomorrow," Streetwise rasped in the darkness once the gryphons had vanished with Ratchet.

"I know," Groove pouted before burrowing deeper into their pile of feathers pouting at having lost the bet on how long Ratchet would hold out against his suitors. "He didn't even last one stinking day."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: ** This was a prompt by deathmustang from lj, she gets all credit for the story idea, I'm just putting it to words. All Transformers belong to their respective creators.

Warnings: Contains mentions of interfacing and emotional turmoil.

* * *

Sideswipe shifted uncomfortably in the early predawn light. He should be preening; their tryst with the harpy last night had been electrifying. Inexperienced and uncertain Ratchet had made a wonderful lover, someone Sideswipe found himself falling for constantly. Still, Ratchet's words haunted him.

"_This doesn't count," Ratchet panted as they wound down from their lovemaking, frames still entwined._

"_Of course not, we didn't get you anything." Sideswipe rumbled with sated satisfaction as he grinned winningly while Sunstreaker silently turned Ratchet's face for a deep, lingering, grateful kiss._

"_Then," Ratchet rasped optics dusky with sated lust as his lips parted from his golden temporary lover, "What do we call this?"_

"_A tryst," Sunstreaker rumbled happily._

_Sobering Ratchet looked between them, "Has this happened often?"_

Sideswipe sighed fidgeting once more. He clicked his beak anxiously spark twisting as the memories from the previous night continued to haunt him.

_Ratchet stared at Sideswipe as the gryphon finished talking, words tumbling from him like a waterfall. Ratchet, optics dim suddenly seemed so distant. He looked downcast as if they had somehow cheapened him. He had left them then, frame shifting to grant him wings before silently gliding to the river to bathe. _

"_You told him friggin' everything!" Sunstreaker hissed at Sideswipe, staring his brother down savagely as Sideswipe seemed to fall into a horrified stupor. _

"_He's going to leave us isn't he?" The words finally slipped from Sideswipe's mouth, so horrified at what he had done he couldn't find his gryphon form. Stuck as a common mech Sunstreaker had to lift him down to the river where they tentatively approached Ratchet._

"_Are there mini Sideswipes and Sunstreakers out there I don't know about?" Ratchet asked softly, desperately attempting to remain collected as he bathed, frame shivering at the twins' closeness._

"_No," Sunstreaker replied flatly, "Our clan holds to taking a preventative. All youngsters are shown the herbs to take when they're old enough to be interested in finding a mate. We have _always_ taken ours."_

Somehow Ratchet had seen through them, known that something was left unsaid. He never asked though, and somehow that made Sideswipe feel all the worse. He looked over his shoulder over to the sleeping harpies, smiling painfully with the longing for that happiness to be his. Sideswipe shook himself, and launched from the tree. He would not rouse his brother or the harpies they were trying to win as their family. No, he would be productive. Nodding to himself against the cool morning breeze he headed to the river looking for fish and maybe, hopefully redemption.

* * *

Sunstreaker huffed as he lie next to the warm harpy pile, wishing he dared creep closer. Their success in winning Ratchet with their charms the night before had seemed so wonderful – until that dammed question. Why did Ratchet have to ask them about their past exploits? Why did Sides have to answer truthfully? And, most of all, why did the last words from his clan still echo in his processors like a premonition?

"_But, you two promised, we'd be together!" A bright green femme cried from the crowd. "You promised!" She looked to the red plumed mech she thought she had loved and gaped at his bland shrug as he brushed past her. "What about the sparklet?"_

"_You wanted it." Sideswipe replied over his shoulder with a shrug, realizing only as the chorused shouts of outrage that maybe sparking up the femme without a true mating flight might not have been a good idea. He sent a mental shove towards his brother who tore out of their cave, meager belongings bundled against his chest as both took to the skies flying for their very lives from the outraged clan they no longer belonged to._

"_You sparked her?" Sunstreaker demanded as they tore through the skies, eagle forearms and talons burdened with the only possessions they could claim._

"_We, dear brother, we sparked her. You were no less enthusiastic."_

Greenlight had been the most easy femme in their clan. Any new bachelors just come of age, or gray tips, sworn against mating to serve as clan guards that got lonely, she was with them. Their tryst had been great. She was throaty and willing, raising her tail for them with little prompting. But, they had never missed their preventative. That made him angry, how could that femme accuse them of being creators when they had taken such care?

The others' encounters had been a confirmation of sorts, ensuring that neither had returned the femme's advances without taking precautions. Trysts were common for gryphons, it was part of their courtship. Trysts proved their earthly skills while the flights showed off their strengths, their capacity to protect each other and their ferocity in battle. These were integral to finding their lifelong mates. So how could they have sparked her?

It was easier to have flown from their clan. Greenlight's words had just clenched their fates, ensuring Arcee would seek their deaths. They were taboo, split sparked twins who sought to share the same mate. Sunstreaker paused, Greenlight's accusation churning in his processors. They had never promised her anything.

"_You two look lonely," Greenlight purred, rubbing seductively against Sideswipe as she lifted her tail to Sunstreaker. She had smelled so good, fresh from the bathing pools, her feathers scented with the winds. Alluring and tantalizing they could not help but take her advances, knowing that this was as close to realizing their hope of sharing a mate they would ever get._

Sunstreaker huffed and rose, unwilling to remain cramped so close to what he desired and moved to the edge of the bole they currently rested in. He flicked his tail, shifting his wings as he settled in the dew laden branches. He could feel Sideswipe's despair, his own depression as his mind spiraled around last night.

"Do you hate me, for having Aid?" Ratchet asked softly at Sunstreaker's side.

Flinching, Sunstreaker looked to the harpy, drinking in the figure drenched in the sun's first light. "You never mated to his creator, so how can we?"

Ratchet sighed, "So, how's this supposed to work?"

"Can we get through our probation period first?" Sunstreaker asked desperately, "Just, let us win you? Let us train your kids and take it from there?"

Ratchet studied the gryphon, suddenly chuckling at the despair he saw in those optics, "Did you two think I would hate you? Just because you two had found a trysting partner?"

"Uh, yes?" Sunstreaker replied, optics brightening with hope despite the abashed uncertainty that filled his processor that the harpy would willingly stand so close.

"Don't relax just yet." Ratchet warned flatly as Sunstreaker's optics brightened, "You two basically accused me of being a harlot for having Aid before I even fully understood that I was a carrier. I can't just forgive you two for that, then dropping the little tid bit that you had had _trysts_, plural, before you even left your clan. If you two want me you better stop jumping to conclusions that topping me once or twice means you know anything about me."

"You asked if there were little gryphons from us." Sunstreaker spoke up, flinching as Ratchet's optics slitted dangerously. "Uh, well, we were wondering, is it possible to become immune to preventatives?"

Ratchet blinked, standing up straighter to think. "It can happen, why do you ask?"

"The only way there would be little gryphons is if Sides and I and –um, a previous partner? – were immune at the same time."

"I need to know what this preventative is and if she took something different, or the same thing." Ratchet glared out into the sky thinking over the various forms of preventatives that could be created. Sunstreaker pulled a small scarp of rare parchment out of sub-space. On it was detailed drawings of various plants, lists of colors, and where they grew. It was beautifully scripted, each image looked real enough Ratchet expected the delicate leaves to shiver in the rising breeze.

"This is amazing," Ratchet looked at Sunstreaker in awe, optics glowing in amazement at the elegant scrawl bearing Sunsreaker's name at the bottom.

"We've never been good with plants," Sunstreaker shrugged off the look he was getting from the harpy, knowing that he would do something drastic to the harpy if those intense, blue optics didn't cease their spell on him.

Finally, Ratchet looked back to the parchment, studying the listed ingredients. "This is pretty common, and I've never heard of anyone becoming immune to it." Ratchet paused frowning, "But, there is a counter measure."

"A what?" Sunstreaker asked, the spell Ratchet's optics had woven around him vanishing in an instant.

"If someone wanted a spark, they could take the counter measure and not suffer any ill effects." Ratchet filled in, "Someone would have to give it to both parties though."

Sunstreaker shook his head, "Our clan leader was never very fond of us, we've always made our own."

"Then you should have nothing to worry about - provided she didn't make you drink anything just before hand." Ratchet handed back the paper, fingers trailing lightly over Sunstreaker's talons before he steeled himself and turned towards his younglings.

"If, somehow that did happen, would we be worth it?" Sunstreaker asked softly towards Ratchet's back.

"I don't know," Ratchet replied honestly, "But I hope you prove to be." He looked affectionately at the golden gryphon with a small, fragile smile.

"Would you two just kiss each other and quit the drama?" Blades asked roughly as his young voice cracked with the first hints of puberty, "Some of us actually want to get up." The others giggled as they sat up, catching Ratchet looking flustered and Sunstreaker scowling. Hyper and hungry the young harpies surged past Ratchet and into the skies circling as they looked for the red gryphon, and hopefully another fishing lesson.

* * *

Ratchet scowled at his shadow extending down the road before him. His once slender waist was thickening rapidly, as were his normally bony ankles. Soon, he would no longer have any of the damned traits that marked him as a mech carrier. He sighed, hating the truth before his optics. He was sparked, and those dumb, alluring, endearing, obnoxious gryphons were the cause. He blamed them entirely, they caught him in heat, found him, trained his younglings, took care of them and they were damned attractive. It was _not_ fair.

Worse, his younglings had figured it out before he had. Streetwise and that book, the little bookworm had read up on carrier mechs and saw the signs. Ratchet wished he could have stayed in denial for a while longer. Now that it was real, knowing this time what he was going to be experiencing over the next vorn while the spark grew in his chest, he wasn't sure he could go through with this.

The sparkling would be a hybrid, some strange mixture of harpy and gryphon, and no guarantee it would carry to term. Harpies had never believed in terminating a spark, never condoned the death of a new life, but would he be doing the mixed creature a favor? If he was not carrying the gryphons would leave, and he would be back to just his five mechlings. It could be enough, just the six of them. It would have to be.

Ratchet flinched as worried fingers brushed away a stray tear he had not realized was there. Looking up he found Sunstreaker and Sideswipe looking down on him worriedly.

"What's wrong?" Sideswipe asked while his optics raked over every square inch of Ratchet's plating.

"Congratulations," Ratchet swallowed tightly, "You're going to be creators." His face fell and he could only bury his face in his hands, sucking in air as he forced himself from breaking down.

At a loss, the twins drew Ratchet close, rubbing his back and arms soothingly while they tried to fathom this reaction from the harpy. "Aren't you supposed to be happy?" Sideswipe asked and instantly regretted it. "I mean, uh um – thank you?"

Ratchet only shook as insecurity filled his lines. Sunstreaker sighed, pulling Ratchet to his chest, lightly pressing the harpy's helm to his spark. "Part of this is here." He put his hand over Ratchet's spark chamber, "Part of you is here. Whatever happens we will be here for you, mating flight or not."

"What if – what if it doesn't carry?" Ratchet asked softly, hesitant to voice his fears. Trembling at the thought of enduring the sensation of the young spark guttering in his chest before it was ready for harvesting.

Sunstreaker looked to Sideswipe at a loss, faces set in near panic their shared bond was mute while they tried to formulate something that would keep them in the harpy's good graces and him at their sides. "Ratch, we would grieve, it would be horrible. I don't - can't imagine, but we would also stay by your side, irregardless. We will not let you suffer in any way, alone. That is, if you would keep us?" Sunstreaker spoke gruffly while Sideswipe tried not to gag at the mushy crap his brother was somehow spewing with a straight face.

"You two are making me sick." Ratchet mumbled into Sunstreaker's chest plates, shoulders trembling slightly with the first stirrings of mirth.

Smirking Sideswipe leaned close, "We would bring you the richest fish from the sea on platters of gold and delicacies from the furthest mountains stewed in rich energon wine. We will rub your feet and feed you the sweetest mountain berries while you lie in our laps safely sheltered from the world."

"Please stop, I beg you!" Ratchet cackled, at the horrendous image. "I'm a carrier mech, not some sappy sparked gryphon femme."

"Why were you crying?" Sideswipe asked in all seriousness, "I thought new sparks would have been celebrated."

"Sideswipe, I don't have a territory, no permanent place. If this spark carries I'll still be raising a youngling as a wanderer. That is if the spark is viable." Ratchet sighed, rubbing his face clean of his tears.

"One thing at a time, Ratch," Sunstreaker rumbled, "First we get the spark to term. Then we worry about the rest."

Ratchet leaned against Sideswipe's shoulder wishing his fears could quell with their words. Slowly as stringe silence filled his audios, making him tense until he looked around, spinal strut stiff with silent fear. "Where are my younglings?" He looked around sharply, finally noting the absence of his young and feared as his realization was followed by the distant, lonely call of the sea.

"We left them at a tide pool trying to catch – strange, disgusting things." Sunstreaker replied unable to tell what the strange armored creatures were that held massive claws before them like shields and walked sideways on too many legs.

"Are they roundish, solid, like to pinch?" Ratchet asked finally letting his mind turn to his younglings and away from the worries of the new spark. The gryphons nodded, turning him from the last rise on the dirt road to the final few feet leading to the sea. "They're called crabs, and despite their appearance they are rather tasty."

Sunstreaker blanched at the thought of eating the vile looking things but said nothing, instead focused on watching Ratchet. The last ten days on the road had been a constant adventure, the hunters were absent in the region and they finally got to see Ratchet in action as a healer at the last way station. Despite the games with Ratchet's younglings and their - mostly failed - attempts at wooing Ratchet they were getting antsy and suppressing their irritation with the situation, Ratchet and each other was starting to wear down on them.

They moved across the strange, soft shifting purplish sands along the beach, the gryphons grimacing as fine particles worked into small gaps in the plating. Sunstreaker shuddered, shaking back paws and talons with every step, frustration mounting as the irritating particles refused to leave him and only found ways of working deeper into the plating.

Ratchet finally cackled, "You look like a manticore kitten in its first bath!" Sunstreaker only scowled, optics slitted dangerously as a semi-feral light glowed behind his optics.

"Keep laughing harpy, you get to clean this sket out of my plating." The yellow gryphon snarled, growling further when they left the soft, shifting sands of the beach to the denser, moist sand of the shore where the dampness made the particles sticky clinging further within his underplating. Their steps took them past the thick band of pitch black sand and sticky rust red grit before the sea. There, past the first jutting spires of rough crystal rolled the sea, white caps resembling charging unicorns locked in an eternal dance between the vast garnet hued ocean and the shifting black sands.

The brilliantly hued frames of the young harpies shone like jewels on the shore all surrounding a small pool giggling and screeching as they scrabbled with strange wriggling creatures pulled from the shallow, ruddy hued depths. Ratchet paused, drinking in the sight of his younglings playing. The days since the gryphons had joined them had been hard on the younglings. They woke before dawn, faced off against the gryphons in training bouts until mid morning then traveled all day only to learn new techniques in hunting before night fell. Each night they slept like the dead and woke only to repeat the same cycle over again. He had never seen them so happy.

Ratchet had never pushed them so hard. Yet, now with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe playing trainers Ratchet had the time to remake his medical kits and train Aid in some of the simple uses. With a small smile on his face he looked to the small belt Aid wore containing the small bulging satchel that carried his first healing kit.

If Ratchet forgot his increasingly masculine looking frame, the absence of his bearing scar and the slight weariness that was going to become his constant companion his life would be perfect. Shoulders sagging he huffed slightly, it was a lie. He was bringing a new spark into the world. He had no territory, no harem and he was still wary of the gryphons that continued to hesitantly court him.

"Uncle Ratch!" Blades called out scampering across the rocky shore to the damp sands bearing strange, multi-legged creatures that writhed in their desperate attempts to escape. As he approached Sunstreaker leapt backwards, keeping as much distance between his frame and the wet, slimy looking monsters from the tide pools. "Aren't they awesome!"

Ratchet knelt, opening his hands to take some of Blades' burden. "All of these can be eaten. Crabs and lobsters are especially good." Ratchet smiled, stroking Blades' helm proudly, "Why don't you and your brothers gather as many of these guys as you can, and tonight we'll have a sea side picnic."

"All right! Hey guys! We can eat them!" Blades raced back to his brothers all grinning as they spread out among the other pools collecting the many colored spiny creatures.

"You expect us to eat _that_?" Sunstreaker rumbled disgustedly.

"Hey, why not? It'll be fun." Sideswipe grinned hugely, "Unless _Sunny's_ afraid of a little crab? – Ouch!"

Sunstreaker snarled as he slammed into his brother bearing both down to tussle on the sands. Ratchet stared at the pair, optics wide. The pair had been the strong, gregarious guardians of his family for the last few days and now he remembered their ferocity while he had been in heat. Remembered that they had broken through an energy cage effortlessly and chased him with single minded determination despite their new won freedom.

The pair rolled to their feet fluidly rounding on each other and lunged. They slammed their fists into each other, optics bright with unspoken emotions. Mid swing they shifted from common to gryphon landing fisted talons on one another and taking their fight to the air.

Ratchet watched them go, an inkling of realization dawning on him. The gryphons had been so intense in their pursuit for his affections, they rarely spoke of anything that did not immediately affect them, and yet something had seemed off about them. Now, he worried. Were they really this violent, willing to rip each other's plating off for a mere slight? Or was there something deeper he needed to know? Swallowing tightly Ratchet turned from the aerial fight and moved to his younglings guiding them through the shallows and keeping them distracted from the brothers' battle overhead.

* * *

"… then we high tailed it out of there!" Sideswipe grinned hugely while Hot Spot and his brothers cackled at the recounted tale of the gryphons' antics as younglings. The fight earlier had been brewing for far too long. After being captured just below the Mouth of Primus they had been the caged fighting mechs for the hunters. They had spent months, maybe longer, trapped within their prison of energy passing from hunting camp to hunting camp forced to fight others of the Free Races to the death. Now, free for almost fifteen days the sudden serenity had nearly driven them crazy. Somehow they had to strip the battle lust from themselves, or else they would lose the harpy.

The long aerial battle had quelled their anxiety and battle lust, with Ratchet somehow turning it into a way to teach his younglings more about fighting and battle. It was amazing, Ratchet's skill with Groove, Streetwise, Blades, Hot Spot and First Aid. The five were different enough in age, varied in their interests and temperaments yet, they adored their guardian.

"Will we be able to fight like you someday?" Blades asked eagerly once the laughter had died down.

"Maybe," Sideswipe replied, ruffling the young harpy's crest.

"What if we don't want to?" Groove asked somberly, looking off into the distance towards a lonely stand of scrub that marked the edge of the shoreline and the unknown plains to the south.

"Then you will know how to keep yourself alive." Sunstreaker rumbled, "Out there," he nodded towards the lonely hills, "There are mechs who will kill you for no better reason than because they can. If you want to know what's out there, you have to be able to keep yourself alive on the journey."

Groove looked up to Sunstreaker with adoring optics. No one understood his need to be alone at times. No one wanted to let him find that quiet silence his spark longed for. Yet, Sunstreaker seemed to. "If I get good enough would I last out there on my own?"

"For a while," Sunstreaker confirmed, "But try to make time to visit Ratchet when you do. Having a guardian that really cares if you're alive is rather rare. Don't ruin that affection by running away permanently."

"I won't!" Groove smiled shyly and reached out to Ratchet, taking the large red hand in his own and clinging tightly to it.

Ratchet smiled gratefully at Sunstreaker as he drew Groove closer. The middle youngling was showing signs of wanting to pull away from their family. Often distracted, he would vanish into the underbrush at times after they made camp. With the arrival of the gryphons he had taken to finding his own isolation more often, and increasingly it had been Sunstreaker to bring him back.

"What is that light?" Hot Spot pointed towards the nearby sea where an ethereal light shimmered from the shallow depths.

Ratchet looked over, frame stiffening as he swore roundly, "It's a ghost net. Hunters are here, they use nets made of light and energy to trap the free races. Some of the sea-clans can take much smaller forms and slip through normal nets. Those," He gestured towards the light, "Keep them in their larger frames and lock up their transformations."

"What happens when they get trapped?" Aid asked fearfully.

"They drown, the fortunate ones at least." Ratchet paused, "Or starve to death if they're lucky. The unlucky ones live long enough to be harvested by the hunters."

"Then we have to get rid of them!" Hot Spot demanded staring Ratchet and the gryphons down to make his point.

"We will," Ratchet promised, "Would you two help them?" He looked to Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, gauging their responses as he asked.

"Sure." Sideswipe grinned, ruffling Streetwise and Hot Spots helms with their protests gracing his hearing.

"Why?" Sunstreaker demanded immediately after, staring Ratchet down. "Why can't you?"

"This is siren territory." Ratchet sighed. "Sirens lure their prey by song, and are fiercely territorial. Right now we are on unclaimed land, once we pass that ridge we no longer will be. I know the siren that guards the frontier between their territory and the forest. I just need to let him know I am not alone. I can't afford to have him eat anyone or let us be eaten by others further down the shore."

"I thought sirens were femmes." Sideswipe blurted with confusion.

"Normally, they are, but like me there are exceptions. Mech sirens are like harpy carrier mechs."

"If sirens are normally femmes then what are their mechs?" Streetwise asked, face blank with a confusion mirrored by his brothers.

"Sirens stay close to shore and are normally femmes, their occasional mates are mer-mechs." Ratchet raised his hand as the others all began to protest this information. "I know, 'but what about the mer-femmes?' Right?" They nodded. "When I first came through that siren had to explain to me for six days what kind of slagging screwed up species he's a part of. The simplest explanation is this:

"Sirens and mer-mechs were once a single species. They spent half their lives swimming in the seas, and half on the shores. Eventually the femmes took more time on the shore to raise their younglings while the mechs ventured to sea for the hunting. Generations went by with the femmes being sirens mating mer-mechs from the seas. Then, on rare occasions the violent femmes would appear within the mer-folk numbers and the uncanny mechs would appear among the sirens.

"Both halves of their species use song to lure their prey into shore, so watch out. Normally they wear face guards that keep their spells at bay and make them harmless. If they don't have that on, they can and will draw you in to your deaths."

The younglings gulped nervously while Sunstreaker and Sideswipe shifted from the others giving themselves enough space to attack any unknown enemies that may come from the darkness. The group fell silent all lost in thoughts of the species that inhabited the seemingly barren shore and the all too real possibility that the hunters may not be their only concerns in the darkness.

* * *

Groove shivered in the early morning mists on the shore, frame shivering from the cold wind and colder waves lapping around his waist. His fingers were numb and his denta chattered while he struggled to remove the ninth net they had encountered since leaving their campsite at dawn. Beside him First Aid mumbled a somber oath as the net shifted underneath the waves and struck a burning line along his arm. They were all bedecked with the long angry welts that puckered their plating.

On the shore Sunstreaker watched over them from the land while Hot Spot hovered overhead searching for dangers from the sea. Sideswipe worked on a second net behind them while Streetwise and Blades struggled further down.

"I don't want to know what that is." Aid finally gagged, looking down at the nearly translucent frame shifting feebly with the tide as the waters played the grayed plating in a macabre dance in death. Below them, swirling in the crimson depths the small figure swayed with the tide. Hollow optic sockets stared out into the murky world and the mechlings could only move their hands faster in a desperate attempt to get away from the lifeless frame.

"Me neither." Groove swallowed tightly unwilling to retch in the waters and have to stand in his own vomit once again. They had all experienced that when they started hours ago, when Ratchet had deftly shown them how to remove the netting and raced off to convince the sirens and merfolk not to eat them. Right now, they all were wishing they had left with their guardian instead of trying to save dead things that were beyond help.

"When is it Hot Spots turn?" Aid whined.

"When his wings get tired." Grove replied with the infinite patience of an older sibling.

"But my arms _are tired_!" Aid cried, "And our arms _are our_ wings."

Groove could only nod, they had figured that out swiftly as well when Aid had started in the air, the others toiling in the water. When his wings had gotten too tired to stay aloft any longer he had landed only to be sent out to sea.

"I bet being a gryphon is easier." Groove pointed out. "Then we'd have _two_ sets of arms."

"No they don't," Aid replied in confusion looking from Sunstreaker to Sideswipe.

"Not arms arms, I mean they have arms _and_ wings."

"Oh, yeah!" Aid looked from Sunstreaker to Sideswipe once again, "But why do they look so tired?"

"Uncle Ratch called them idiots for staying up all night."

"Oh, that was dumb." Aid agreed with a satisfied sigh when the final bindings anchoring the net out at sea broke severing their connection to the shore. Together they struggled towards the shore away from the swiftly deteriorating net that turned into little more than wisps of light and ether and the lonely grayed frame sinking in lonely silence into the deep.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Transformers AU, fantasy, all frames based on G1 designs. Thanks to Death Mustang for prompting the idea!

**Warnings:** Descriptions of physical romance, dub-con, and angst.

* * *

Ratchet soared through the brisk morning air, enjoying the heady fragrance of the sea slowly warming with the rising sun. He always loved the sea, it was lonely and melancholy as it eternally wove its way to shore and out again. Nothing stood to welcome the seas, and any that had, had long since worn away with the tide.

Looking over his shoulder Ratchet caught a faint, glimmering speck of white shimmering in the sun and smiled wanly. First Aid was in the sky watching over the others who toiled in the sea. Guilt gnawed at Ratchet, he knew what the younglings would find. He knew the nets held only death and only a miracle would ensure any survived their encounter. Yet, vorns ago, he had been trapped in one of those very nets…

_Ratchet staggered along the shoreline, stumbling in exhaustion as he looked for shelter praying for something, anything that would let him rest. He was so tired. He moved in a haze, optics bleary from lack of recharge, tanks groaning uncomfortably from going too long without food. Nightmares kept him awake constantly on the edge of slipping into recharge, made him tremble in the isolated darkness of night expecting Tracks to return at any second._

_The memory of the mech's talons holding him down, forcing Ratchet to accept the older mechs' spike still tore through the young healer apprentice. He remembered the agony of Tracks' assault, still bore the scars along his aft and thighs from powerful talons that made him submit. Now, now everything was so much worse._

_Ratchet looked down groggily at his shadow, taking in the silhouette that looked so much like Wheeljack's. The shoulders were broad, the waist thick, and the once broad hips now slim and narrow. The shadow before him bore the frame of a mech, but for Ratchet it was a sentence to carry the sparkling of his attacker. The sea called, seemed to summon him to its depths, promising dark oblivion and succor from the constant exhausted anguish._

_Weak, weary, starving and desperate Ratchet walked into the rolling tide, pushed past the early waves and stumbled over something. He fell, taking in the sight of a youngling scrabbling within a net that glowed with an eerie bluish-green light. Driven by an instinct he could not describe Ratchet pulled his exhausted frame through the surrounding waters, and cut the small creature from the netting. _

_Once free the bindings fell away from the silvery-purple frame revealing a manticore kitten bearing the face of a beautiful femme-ling. She was beautiful and in that one second of clarity Ratchet realized through his exhaustion that he was too tired to swim. With the last of his strength he shoved the femmeling towards the surface and felt dark oblivion claim him._

"Ratchet," A sonorous voice called Ratchet from his memories startling him into landing roughly in the soft, black sand. "Once more you come to me sparked." The figure seemed to fade in from the brilliant sunlight darkening like a wraith solidifying into a living being.

"Yeah," Ratchet sighed, shifting from harpy to mech before the other, "How is she?" He looked towards the ocean and the lonely rock partially exposed in the low tide where he had nearly met his end those vorns ago.

"My eldest is well, she misses you." The other turned his blue frame towards a low cliff riddled with wind and sea scoured caves. They headed for an unimpressive shallow hollow. The purple mech leading them through a narrow back switched tunnel that opened up into a massive open cavern cluttered with netting and trinkets. One wall curved inwards making a storage nook holding a larder of stored energon, another across the massive open main cave held many scattered toys and several beds nestled against the far wall. The place was homey, filled with the energy of happy younglings and family. "My other younglings miss you as well."

"I miss them too," Ratchet replied, smiling wanly at the comforting home he had wandered into, remembering his first time waking up here after his host had rescued him from the sea…

_Consciousness__ came to him slowly, he only cared that he was warm, comfortable and his tanks felt contentedly full. It was bliss. Ratchet smiled slightly, burrowing into his covers, inhaling the scent his creator always imbued the blankets with – he was not at home! _

_Ratchet flung himself from the comfortable berth, staring uncomprehendingly at the strange, round nest-bed he had slept in, blinked stupidly at the tiny, grayish manticore that hid behind the bed from his sudden movement._

"_Ravage." An emotionless voice intoned, startling Ratchet further, only to stare in horror and confusion._

"Listen, Soundwave, I don't remember if I ever thanked you –"

Soundwave held his hand up silencing Ratchet, a single optic shining from behind the elaborate mask he wore shining fondly at the harpy. "You saved Ravage from the _katharó_, allowed me to nurse you and convince you that bearing a spark would not end your existence. It is I who has never properly thanked you."

Ratchet smiled at the siren, despite his monotone voice Ratchet knew Soundwave cared dearly for younglings, "I brought him, this time. First Aid is back there, in the open lands removing ghost nets from the sea with his half brothers." He shifted, slowly realizing that a new tension had developed between them, one he was swiftly recognizing as the attraction he felt towards the twins. Only the twins were not here. Ratchet swallowed tightly forcing away the memories of nights spent in this cave each rotation surrounded by the siren's mixed breed young. In hind sight Ratchet could see the other's desire burning in the lone, visible yellow optic.

"I – I can't accept the thanks you want to give." Ratchet breathed, only now after tasting the courting the gryphons were swiftly winning his spark over with could he recognize the silent devotion Soundwave had offered him each time Ratchet showed up on the shore. "I am _with_ someone, this spark's creators."

"You have taken mates?" The melodic voice asked somberly, dropping an octave into a rich baritone suddenly devoid of any hint emotion as he lifted his mask to reveal his full face perfect and unblemished in any way. The yellow optics bared from the sheltering mask deepened to fill with a dark emotion Ratchet could not place.

"No – well – not exactly?" Ratchet scrubbed his face with his hand and sighed as he lowered himself onto a low bench. "They caught me during heat, flew me down and caused this." He tapped the plating over his spark for emphasis. "Then they came back." Ratchet sighed once more, head bowed and his arms resting heavily on his knees before he looked back up at Soundwave with fingers laced, "They're courting me."

"You finally found harpies willing to take you?" Soundwave's voice hitched as if catching a sob, "I am happy for you."

"They're not harpies, 'Wave. They're twin gryphon mechs." Ratchet looked back to the ground missing the calculating gleam that filled Soundwave's optics before the siren mech schooled his features once more into a potent mix of desire and misery.

"This," Soundwave spoke softly as he set his mask aside on a nearby table, "Is not thanks. This," Soundwave smiled salaciously as he approached optics bright with a rumbling murmur bordering on a song, "Is my lullaby…"

* * *

Ratchet panted and thrust deeper into the welcoming heat. Gasping, he knew only pleasure, his hands running over the frame below him eliciting moans that changed the murky haze dulling his processors to anything beyond this haven of desire. Slowly the sound he had not noticed faded, leaving only the writhing, pleading, panting of his berth-mate to echo in his audios. Optics shuttering in ecstasy Ratchet thrust faster, harder, taking his pleasure as the other shrieked – his? her? – pleasured cries.

White hot lust and desire threaded up his back struts forcing Ratchet to shudder as release came unexpectedly. Ratchet wailed as he loosed his lust deep within his partner. Panting, trembling he collapsed over his unknown lover. Spent and exhausted Ratchet wondered how long he had been with his unknown lover. Slowly the dark haze over his processors began to clear and the last vivid memory before this seductive darkness came back to him making him snap his helm up to look at his lover's face, and freeze. "Soundwave!" Fury warred with confusion as he hastily pulled his spent member out of Soundwave's still trembling frame, and backed away from the siren. "What the slag?"

"Good question." A dual tone rumbled echoed through the cave, resonating as Sunstreaker and Sideswipe strode furiously towards Ratchet where he stood still exposed next to Soundwave sprawled lewdly across the berth displaying his used valve for all to see.

"Sunstreaker? Sideswipe? My younglings?" Ratchet asked disjointedly looking askance from Soundwave to the twins and back fearful of what happened to his brood.

"They're resting," Sunstreaker growled dangerously, "Along with three little heathens claiming _this one_ as their carrier." Sideswipe finished the statement grounding out the words, slowly peeling Soundwave's plating with the fury in his optics.

"So this is where you have been," Sunstreaker snarled, lips trembling in fury, "All day while _we_ oh so dutifully watched your little harpies."

"All day?" Ratchet asked, shame forcing his interface panel to seal once more as he scrubbed his hand over his face. "I came here to ask for your permission to cross siren lands without being accosted by your people! They've been courting me, doing everything right and now –" Ratchet bunched his hands into furiously trembling fists, "What the _slag_ is wrong with you?" Fury mingled with betrayal in Ratchet's optics as he stared down Soundwave. The siren only closed in interface panel with a contented smirk as he gracefully stood and donned his mask.

"Objective, accomplished." Soundwave intoned flatly, his lone shining optic gleaming with accomplished pride over the three other mechs in his cave. "A youngling with Ratchet is assured."

"You sang me into, into – fragging you so you could have a harpy hybrid?" Ratchet demanded feeling the old, familiar despair of being used trail up his lines. He had finally gotten past Tracks' memory, gotten over his despair and self-loathing following the older harpy's attack on him years ago with the Twins' devotion and caring. Now, Ratchet felt a new set of hate and shame filling his spark, but this time he had no qualms about attacking the one that caused this.

"Harpies raise their own younglings, take great pains to take on those of others, surely you would not abandon one of your own coding line?" Soundwave asked cajolingly and Ratchet felt himself trapped.

"You don't even know if you're sparked!" Ratchet roared turning on the siren, praying for a reason to tear the other's carrying camber out through his intakes.

"Incorrect assumption." Soundwave leered proudly, "Each visit you have taken damage while in the sea. Each attack granted me parts of your frame. I have consumed you, Ratchet and any I consume and interface with yields viable offspring."

Sunstreaker watched the exchange between the harpy and the siren with increasingly sickening dread, Rathet was livid. This was not of his doing and Sunstreaker knew the siren wanted something else.

_-:- Wait, this means that Ratchet is both a carrier _and_ a creator? -:- _Sideswipe sent over their bond including deviant images of what they could do with Ratchet when he had carried the spark in his chest too close to term and normal interfacing would no longer be an option. The images made Sunstreaker's mouth water and interface array tremble at the thought. Then another, worse idea rose in his own processors. The siren and harpy had been _hot_ together, Ratchet taking the larger Soundwave, but how much more delicious would it be to be taking Ratchet as he took the siren? Beside him Sideswipe trembled at the thought and both quickly forced the hungry wolf stares from their faces as they took in the escalating verbal battle between the smaller fliers.

"Viable offspring!" Ratchet demanded aghast, "You admit to being the unknown creature beneath the waves that has clawed and bit me each year for the last six just so you could eat me enough over time to carry my sparkling? Good-bye Soundwave." Ratchet turned nearly fleeing from the cave as several forms raced in from the outside bowling him over.

_::Hunters!::_ The small manticore shrieked wordlessly, her voice piercing each of their helms as she cried. _::Soundwave, they're here.::_

"We leave," Soundwave bellowed shifting his voice into a thrumming purr that sent mindless terror through the others forcing them to follow the blue siren as he fled his cave and descended into a dark tunnel underground. They ran as his resonating song continued to enthrall them forcing them to flee regardless of exhaustion.

They ran, optics blind to the reaching roots that stuck through the walls and ceiling of the ancient tunnel. Their pedes moved without their input following as Soundwave pushed his beguiling voice to its limit controlling the eleven figures that raced in his wake. Throat parched and rough with too many hours of singing his mind-ensnaring song, Soundwave staggered, pushing himself and his companions until they reached the far distant opposite end of their tunnel. There, with the night dark sky just beyond the ragged mouth leading into the chirring chorus of night birds and insects they faced the jungle on the far side of the sirens' lands and there, in that last smooth spot before the tunnel exit Soundwave's final vestiges of strength left him.

"Rest." Soundwave ordered and let the song go. Immediately he collapsed, gasping as the long run while singing the others into following caught up to him, sending him into deep, strut-less, unknowing recharge.

"What – the – Pit?" Ratchet looked around at the strange place he found himself in as he gasped exhaustedly, the run was a blur. From the moment he was bowled over by a tidal wave of younglings until now, it was all a disjointed dream.

"Carrier?" First Aid asked as he panted optics bright with fear and confusion. Ratchet huddled close to his younglings, holding them tight.

"Are any of you hurt?" the harpy mech asked worriedly, finding himself looking over all the younglings in turn until all sat huddled together, unharmed.

Ratchet looked to the gryphons, worry blossoming anew as the pair lounged in their gryphon forms beaks wide open and panting. Their heads shook occasionally while their optics remained unfocused. Ratchet watched them with intense optics, hesitating as a waft of spent transfluid from his filthy frame reached his nostrils. He had _trysted_ with Soundwave. The thought left a bitter taste in the back of his throat, but he still had promised the pair that he would let them try to win him. Now, he feared they would leave.

Ratchet looked down helplessly at Groove and Streetwise curled in exhausted slumber in his lap. He had thought, yesterday, when they had arrived on the beach, that he could finally start loving the pair. Now, he was not sure they would want him anymore.

Slowly Sunstreaker and Sideswipe regained their breath, and let the last lingering effects of being bespelled left their frames. Once they could think clearly they looked to Ratchet. The harpy looked miserable, sitting with his young ones so close, almost as miserable as he had looked only yesterday when he realized he was carrying and the spark might not reach full term.

Ratchet looked up, his blue optics dark with unfathomable emotions. The twins felt their intakes still at his desperate face and knew they still loved him. "What happened out there, on the beach?" Ratchet asked softly, his optics never meeting theirs. The pair curled together in the tunnel Sunstreaker taking up weary guard position from the direction they had come and Sideswipe filling the tunnel exit with his bulk. They were quiet and pensive before finally relating the day's events.

_They panted; their arms and legs trembling from toiling in the ocean until the sun was high. Sunstreaker watched Ratchet's younglings toil from the beach, nervous worry beginning to fill his lines. Ratchet should have been back, he should have been the one to wade out and haul Blades in when the youngling refused to admit exhaustion until he collapsed into the sea. It should have been Ratchet to dive beneath the waves and haul the most stubborn of the younglings to shore._

"_Something's wrong." Sideswipe spoke Sunstreaker's thoughts. They both knew something had happened to Ratchet and the growing terror in their lines spoke of the harpy's death by the voracious sirens. Worried, tired and knowing the younglings were beyond exhausted Sunstreaker and Sideswipe gathered the four youngest into their arms and herded the weary Hot Spot between them as they trudged the massive distance between their location and the faint, barely visible pede-prints of two mechs heading to the distant cliff face._

"_I can't," Sideswipe gasped, shaking his head. He was done, strut weary from carrying the two younglings in his arms after standing guard all night and removing nets from the sea. Together the twins hauled their lover's younglings further ashore, depositing the four sleeping harpies on a pile of spongy, dried sea kelp and guided Hot Spot down to rest beside them._

_Then they collapsed. Flat on their backs, panting and exhausted Sunstreaker could only strive to get the air in his intakes. Slowly they got their vents back, slowly the exhaustion blackening their vision faded and they were left with only the blisteringly bright sky overhead and cold fear in their sparks. They stilled in unison taking in the high scudding clouds, the calls of the sea and the lonely wails of the winds across the time whittled cliff face. The keening cries of the cliffs sounded like impassioned lovers, the thought brought a weary smile to their faces. If they had Ratchet here everything would be perfect. Ratchet._

_They sat up, forcing still weary and trembling limbs to accept them only to freeze midway between sitting and standing at a strange trio of monstrosities crouched behind the unconscious younglings. Leading the nightmarish beasts was a femme-faced manticore lounging contentedly on a nearby kelp mat. Beside her a bat-winged djinn hunched and a third creature crouched between them, a serpent tailed, bird winged fully hooded creature that Sunstreaker and Sideswipe had prayed to never see. It was a cockatrice._

_::You are trespassing, common mechs.:: The manticore hissed mutely in a creepily benign little femme-ling voice, yet the malice within her optics promised a painful retribution if she was not heeded. _

_Sunstreaker shifted from his common form, spreading his wings and snapping his beak that was fully the size of the little femme's helm, "We are _not_ common mechs." His glare made her flinch and suddenly Sideswipe realized they were looking at younglings no older than Streetwise._

"_Who is your carrier?" Sideswipe asked gruffly, hoping this was the right approach to the misborn trio. _

"_Soundwave, guardian of the sands." The little cockatrice hissed sibilantly, "And he has no love for gryphons." The howling winds from the cliffs made his voice all the more disturbing, the imagery of lovers impassioned had long since faded since meeting the misborn younglings. Now, the sound seemed more like the wail of a distraught carrier finding her hard brought youngling was a monster._

"_But we have heard so much about him." Sideswipe grinned with mock bravado he in no way felt. He was too tired to be dealing with lethal upstarts, "He did rescue Ratchet, and these are his younglings."Sideswipe gestured to the five sleeping harpies curled in a small pile between Sunstreaker and him._

_The three hybrids paused, tense and still as they scrutinized the gryphons, "What are your names?" the little djinn demanded._

_Sideswipe filled them in on their purpose and who they were, "Besides, doesn't our removing the nets grant us _some_ consideration from your carrier?"_

"_Fine, we will take you to our carrier when he returns." Ravage replied, signaling her brothers, the cockatrice, Sundor, and the djinn, Ratbat, to lie down only to freeze with wide optics staring into the distance when they all heard the distant shouts. They looked back towards the shifting sands the gryphons had come from spotting the plethora of dark figures scouring the sand. The hunters had come._

"_Everybody up!" Sunstreaker barked, forcing Ratchet's brood roughly awake, urging the younglings on before him as they raced across the heat shimmering sands to the distant cliffs. Then realized it was not the wind making the desperate keening cries. The tunnel they entered had the heady aroma of interface while cries that had become etched into his processors echoed down the narrow passage. _

"_Stay here," Sunstreaker and Sideswipe slipped into the caves recognizing the scent of interface and the sounds of gasped pleasure and knew that Ratchet was not the innocent, faithful creature he would make himself out to be._

Sideswipe looked to his taloned foreclaws then up at Ratchet. They had been wrong in their assumptions on what had gone on in the cave, and now Ratchet knew it. "So what do we do now?"

"Pfft, that's easy!" First Aid giggled blearily, nearly drunk from the day's work and terrified race for safety, "Carrier has a harem!" The last was spoken in a sing-song voice as Aid slipped back into recharge.

Ratchet started looking between the two gryphons to the lone slumbering siren and then to the many younglings between them. Eight, there were eight younglings. Two younglings per adult, it was nothing any good harem couldn't handle. The thought was staggering. How in the name of the Sisters had they managed this? He looked to the piled younglings surrounding the siren then back to his suitors and First Aid.

"Harem?" Sideswipe instantly brightened, "Ratchet, he's right! We can be your three; you can grab your territory it's everything you wanted."

Ratchet sighed, "Harems are made of femmes." Sideswipe instantly deflated at Ratchet's argument, optics downcast as the small glimmering hope of finally hearing Ratchet agree to be their mate dimmed to nearly nothing.

"That's ridiculous." Sunstreaker snarled optics flashing as his brother hunched in defeat. "Show me this writ of yours and where it says, exactly, that a harem is made of of one mech and his femmes."

"It doesn't," Streetwise yawned glaring at the noisy adults. "The writ states, 'A harem shall be initiated by the three.' There's nothing that says it has to be femmes, mechs or both, besides Uncle Jack has only two femmes." Streetwise rolled over and fell back asleep.

"Please?" Sideswipe grinned winningly, optics shinning once more with hope. "We can keep the siren long enough to win a territory, then if it doesn't work out –" He flicked a talon absently as if discarding an insect from his frame.

"Oh, no," Ratchet forced himself to stand within the narrow confines of the tunnel entrance leading to the opposite side of the shore and the path he would take leading back to the forest – he shuddered – and his carrier. "I am not taking on a conniving, thought controlling, mech-using siren just to claim a strip of land we will have no use for when we're dead and inside his tanks!"

Ratchet shifted to his harpy form fleeing the tunnel and taking to the skies, searching for a tree massive enough to hold his little family. Gliding noiselessly in the evening dusk he finally found a massive bole more than big enough for six harpies. Remembering the location he headed back to the tunnel to claim his young.

Only they were gone. Intakes hitching Ratchet froze as all his young and the two gryphons had vanished. In the dark confines of the tunnel only Soundwave's exhausted form remained surrounded by his softly keening younglings staring hopefully at Ratchet with desperate optics.

"They followed you," Ratbat whispered brokenly, his massive crimson optics looked pleadingly up at Ratchet with that spark wrenching adorableness all young things possessed in droves. "Just, don't leave us – without saying g-goodbye." His vocals hitched, a lone tear trailing down his desperate, bat-like face.

Ratchet huffed as his spark nearly physically lurched in his chest at the younglings' tears. Did this count as blackmail? He knelt by the kitten he had rescued after First Aid had been sparked and drew her and Ratbat into his arms, holding them close. Ravage's little face pressed into his chest, her tiny frame trembled with her desperate purring as silent tears streaked his chest plating. Her tiny paws gently kneaded his shoulder, delicate claws rasping softly against the smooth plating.

Around them Sundor huddled closer, his own grief at being left behind joining keening from his siblings' small frames. "Ravage, Primus, love you and your brothers because your carrier does _not_ deserve to have me keep his sorry chassis in one piece!"

::What did Soundwave do?:: Ravage asked with a hiccup.

"He sang me into doing something I _did not_ want." Ratchet snarled softly as he glared at the slumbering siren.

"We asked him to." Sundor approached cautiously, his claw tipped wings reaching along the ground like hands feeling where he walked before nuzzling his hooded helm against Ratchet's side. "We wanted to keep you as our creator, since we don't have any." The young cockatrice shrugged his wings desperately turning his hooded helm directly at Ratchet, beseeching with winged caresses to the other's arm.

"Please?" Ratbat asked hesitantly, "The sirens have left the shores, leaving the mainland for the distant isles. They rejected us, the three of us, as we are not pure. It was good to have us as watchdogs while on the big mainland, but they don't want monsters on the home isle. We need you, so that we can stay."

Ratchet rolled his optics and sighed exasperatedly at the plaintive bitterness the youngling held in his voice, "Your carrier is more trouble than he's worth." Then glared hard at each of them in turn, "None of you are monsters, remember that, you are hybrids and your carrier loves all of you."

'_And so do I.'_ Ratchet kept his vocals mute on that thought not wanting to give the young ones false hope but unable to abandon mere younglings either. "Now, come on, I know you three inherited his ability to fly. I can't carry him and you lot as well." With a final huff Ratchet launched himself into the air latching his talons into Soundwave's frame before slowly flying to the distant tree bole, and hopefully, his younglings.

"Ratchet!" Sunstreaker pulled the harpy close as Soundwave was deposited within their bole. "Never disappear like that!" Ratchet panting from the exhausting flight looked up with startled optics at Sunstreaker.

"I didn't disappear, _you_ vanished with _my _younglings." Ratchet groused too tired to actually argue with the gryphon as his intakes heaved to regain his breath. His optics tracked to the side automatically seeking his younglings, and marginally relaxing when he spotted the eight youngsters cuddled close together with wide optics as they stared at Soundwave nervously.

"I thought you didn't want him?" Sideswipe asked lowly, sulking in the back of the bole. He lay curled in a massive ball of misery, his powerful beak resting wearily upon a foreleg. Optics dark and uncertain filled with despair and bitterness he refused to look at Ratchet.

The harpy sighed, somewhat grateful that Sunstreaker still held him as he soaked up the larger mech's warmth. "I – I couldn't leave the younglings, Sisters take me, but I couldn't. They've been abandoned by their own people, forsaken for being hybrids. According to them it was their idea for Soundwave to try to win my affections, so I would become the creator none of them ever had."

"So, keep the brats and kill off the siren." Sideswipe spat, ignoring the shivering mass of terror Soundwave's younglings had become with his words. He failed to notice Ratchet's brood huddle closer to the new trio, holding them close and protecting them with their own small wings.

"Kill him?" Hot Spot demanded, speaking up for Ratchet as he stood between the gryphon and his brothers, "Is that how gryphons think? Kill anything that makes life difficult? You sounded happy enough to force Uncle Ratch to take Soundwave as a mate when it meant you could finally have my uncle. Now he's out of your reach again so it's fine to just kill Soundwave?

"Maybe _we_ don't want you to court _our_ uncle." Hot Spot strode to stand between Sideswipe and Ratchet, his brothers cuddled with Soundwave's younglings glaring at the red gryphon with distrusting optics.

"Enough." Ratchet sighed and pulled out for Sunstreaker's embrace. "It was nice," he looked up at Sunstreaker with saddened optics and miserably forced a smile, "To finally be wanted. You two let me feel loved, and for that I'm grateful. But, I can't do this to either of you anymore. You two deserve to be happy, and obviously I can't be the mech you want."

Ratchet swallowed bitterly, forcing a brave smile that failed to reach his optics at the gryphon pair he had allowed himself to fall in love with. "I will return to my carrier, with First Aid and his brothers. I'll help Soundwave find a safe residence on the outskirts of the harpy lands with his younglings and you two," Ratcht swallowed tightly taking a deep shuddering breath, "You two can finally be free to court someone who is able to love only you." With his words Ratchet launched himself from their haven into the night, vanishing into the darkness with a ringing keen of grief.

Sideswipe blinked owlishly at the empty space where Ratchet had just stood feeling poleaxed and stunned. "What just happened?"

Hot Spot slumped beside his brothers, pulling First Aid into a miserable hug. "We made Ratchet miserable."

Sunstreaker shook his head and headed for the exit intent on finding Ratchet. "Wait." A rasping voice stilled him. Looking over his shoulder Sunstreaker focused one gleaming optic on the barely awake Soundwave.

"Wait," the siren repeated weakly, "Let him have time to think."

"Why? So he can get captured by hunters?" Sunstreaker snarled intent on finding the mech he had felt so close to barely a day ago, the mech who had smiled with willing optics until the siren had reared up into their lives.

"No," Soundwave sighed and wearily levered himself to sit up better. "This was my last attempt to win Ratchet. I have courted him for six vorns, yet he never noticed me. Then he came with you two and he _finally_ realized what I have been offering. I have waited for him for so long, and I cannot go on alone any longer. I love him, just like you two do." His voice was flat, emotionless and deep. The flat tone belied the desperate emotions simmering within his one visible optic. "The Sisters' Writ does not make exception to a harem being made of mechs or femmes. This I have read. We can win him, and make him happy."

"And how do you plan on doing that?" Sideswipe spat, finally rising as he stalked to his brother's side.

"Stop acting like a bunch of selfish afts?" Hot Spot suggested with a glare at the adults, ignoring the growing pile of smaller younglings that had accumulated in his lap and around him as his siblings and Soundwave's brood snuggled together in recharge.

"That would be a start." Soundwave agreed somberly. "I have done something I cannot undo," he rested his hand over his own carrying chamber in his chest, "but I would do so again if it meant carrying something of Ratchet within me."

Hot Spot glared hard at Soundwave, "You forced Uncle Ratch to mate with you?" He moved to slip out from under his brothers, only to balk at their combined mass pinning him to the ground as he quivered in rage at the still prone siren. "You knew what Tracks did to him!"

With the youngster's voice ringing through the bole Soundwave's spark fell within his chest. "I knew," he nodded weakly, then looked over to the mechling, "My song did not make him do anything he did not want to. It only made him more willing to give in to his spark."

Hot Spot spluttered, optics bright with rage. "Stay away from Uncle Ratch." He crossed his arms over his chest and stared into a corner away from the siren and the gryphons.

Sunstreaker and Sideswipe glanced at each other, their bond teeming with a swift, heated argument. They had pursued Ratchet for weeks, thought they had him and lost him time and again. They had fallen for his younglings, wanting to be there for the little ones and watch them grow. Now, there was a chance that they could finally have a safe place to raise this crazy, mixed up brood, but it hinged on keeping Soundwave.

"You didn't force him?" Sunstreaker asked darkly, more than willing to rip the siren apart if he felt Ratchet had been taken advantage of.

"No," Soundwave sighed, tugging his mask off and rubbing his face tiredly. The twins stared in shock at the siren. They had been too enraged to take in the other's visage in the tunnels, but here, safe from the hunters they could admit the siren was a very handsome mech.

'_No wonder Ratchet fell for him,'_ Sideswipe sent a mental smirk at his brother, their minds simultaneously revamping their lusty imaginings of Ratchet and Soundwave together. It was hard not to get excited about the image and only the small multitude of little optics staring at them kept the pair from grinning lasviously.

"So, what's the plan?" Sideswipe asked, startling Soundwave out of his silent misery.

"Plan?" Soundwave looked from one gryphon to the other, startled to realize they were serious about wooing Ratchet together. "First, keep Ratchet from leaving us."

"Not a problem," Sunstreaker replied calmly, smothering the rage and insecurity he felt deep inside. "We swore we would be Ratchet's guards during his carrying term, we will not go back on our word. He has no way of protecting his younglings or his new spark when he is further along. Carrying, especially traveling with so many hunters around, will make him an easy target."

"What will you do?" They asked in wary unison, watching the siren with jaded optics.

Instead of answering Soundwave looked to the huddled pile of younglings, focusing on Streetwise, "You know this writ?" The youngling nodded somberly, but stayed silent. "Despite my actions I do love your uncle, I cannot undo what I have done, but I will do anything to make it better."

Streetwise shifted, not quite understanding what had happened between the adults but knowing that Uncle Ratch was very sad. Instead of answering he looked to his once more alert brothers, taking in their scared faces.

"When Tracks did something stupid he brought gifts to our carriers, normally small things that meant a lot to them." Blades offered tentatively. The most aggressive of the young harpies had always felt out of place with his own kind, but Sideswipe and Sunstreaker had let him feel in control as he learned to hunt and fight. He didn't want to lose his new 'uncles' who made feel like he finally belonged.

Sunstreaker looked Blades over thoughtfully, the youngling had grown on him. Blades, despite being a very small harpy was more like a gryphlet. He bounded with energy, loved to fight, and took any knocks he received with the rough and tumble enthusiasm that would make any gryphon proud.

With startling realization Sunstreaker felt his spark _twist_ with the thought of leaving Blades. The golden gryphon had come to think of the little hellion as his own, and wanted to watch the youngling grow. Intrigued, Sunstreaker leaned closer to his favorite youngling, "What kind of gifts?"

"Blades!" First Aid warned, echoing Hot Spot's vehement desire to not want the gryphons to worm their way into his uncle's spark any further.

Standing, scrabbling away from his brothers Blades resolutely stared them down as he stood leaning against Sunstreaker's massive feathered shoulder. "Hot Spot always fit in Tracks' harem. You always belong everywhere like the perfect hatchling. You're carrier wanted you!" Blades glared at his brothers with rebellious optics, "All of you!" The last was shrieked as the deep rooted pain wormed out of Blades' narrow chest. "You don't know what it's like to wonder when you'll be kicked out because you're too rough, not smart enough, not good enough! None of you have ever been called 'nothing'!"

Streetwise reeled back, optics wide. He, Hot Spot and Blades had often fought, the younger having grievances that never seemed to fade. Spots never seemed knew what to do, wishing Tracks would step up and do something. Now it seemed their sire already had – and it wasn't what any of them had hoped for.

"Blades," Sunstreaker gently buffeted the wailing harpy with lightly fisted talons. He knocked the little red and white mechling over sending him sprawling into a jumbled pile of feathers. "You don't yell at your brothers."

"In Tracks' harem all the femmes have a pecking order. Harems have hierarchy. There is the first femme, she's the one who is most by the mech-harpy's side, like his guard. Then the others take supporting roles helping to raise the younglings and fighting to maintain their territory." Streetwise shrugged helplessly with confused optics as he hugged Blades close, "But I don't know how mechs are supposed to behave."

Sunstreaker let his processor mull the youngling's words over, an image forming that almost made him smile. Soundwave keeping a massive tree bole home for them, while the twin gryphons protected their territory and kept an optic on Ratchet as he worked in a clinic on the edge of their territory safely away from their home. It was quaint and calm, and beside him Sideswipe snickered as his processor shoved an image of the four of them engaged in night time activities in a sound shielded room so the younglings wouldn't hear.

"Fine," Sideswipe smirked at the siren, "You mind the harem nest, _we_ protect Ratchet and the territory."

"Acceptable." Soundwave nodded, "All younglings are trained by us equally and have equal rights in the harem."

"Sorry, not happening." Sideswipe countered, "Hot Spot is the eldest, he is the head youngling until his majority. _Then_ Ravage, until she's old enough to leave as well. Until then your younglings listen to Hot Spot."

Soundwave glared at the gryphons, lone visible optic darkening in rage as he took offense to their words.

"Oh, no, I am not head of the younglings!" Hot Spot broke in, "I'll help my brothers, Ravage helps her sibs and we'll split duties – wait. When did you three stop hating each other?" Spots looked from the siren to the gryphons in confusion, optics blinking rapidly. Around him his brothers and Soundwave's brood shared his consternation.

"We love your uncle, and he wants a home. So, if we deal with each other Ratchet has his three and can get his territory." Sideswipe sighed resignedly and looked to Soundwave with distaste. "Sort of a win-win."

"Sort of," Sunstreaker snorted unhappily. His naughty visions of he and his brother taking Ratchet while Rtachet took Soundwave had fizzeled in the face of reality, leaving him charged from walking in on Ratchet and Soundwave with no release. He shivered, thoughts of their single tryst with Ratchet a mere eleven days ago had seemed like a vorn. Interface plating tingling with desire he suppressed a shudder and forced his processors to stop thinking of Soundwave's sleek, desirable frame.

Hot Spot looked down to his siblings, now all slumbering around him interspersed with Ravage and her brothers. Despite just meeting them Hot Spot already liked Soundwave's younglings, enjoying having a femme around. Ravage was wise and feral, beautiful and canny. She was everything Hot Spot had ever wanted in a sister. Deep in his spark he wished Ratchet would take the siren as a third mate, desperately needing a stable home after their journeys.

"Sideswipe?" Hotspot looked up to the red gryphon he had hoped to call creator, "Can you help me here?" He gestured to the pile of harpies in his lap with pleading optics. Sideswipe smiled wanly, his usual happiness absent as he gently lifted slumbering younglings from Spot's frame.

Once free of his siblings Hot Spot placed his hand on the red gryphon's massive shoulder. "Thanks, I'm going to go find Uncle Ratch, and Uncle Swipe? I hope you win him, all three of you. I – I'm afraid of Aid's grand-carrier." Head down shyly Hot Spot raced from the stunned gryphons not wanting to see their faces and fled into the darkness seeking Ratchet.

"Primus take it," Sideswipe grumbled, "I _like_ these younglings." He huffed and curled up close to the jumbled pile of younglings, an unconscious smile blooming across his features as Groove rolled over in his sleep, pressing his small face into Sideswipe's side with a soft snore.

Sunstreaker melted at the sight, and sighed, head down. "I don't think I could leave them. Not anymore." He looked to his brother with helpless optics and knew they had already sealed their fates.

"Younglings have that knack." Soundwave breathed tiredly, losing the battle to once more fall into desperately needed recharge. He dropped his mask beside him with a long, weary sigh. "Once they get into your spark they'll never let … go …"

Sunstreaker huffed as he looked the siren over. Yes, he was a fantastic looking creature. Dark blue with yellow primary feathers just a shade darker than his optics and, his face regardless if he was in common or siren form was always the same, that matte black plating that rivaled carved ebony sculpted his exquisite features.

"I think I like him too." Sideswipe mumbled unhappily. They were fighting a losing battle against their emotion protocols. They cared for the young harpies as if they were their own, they loved Ratchet, and knew Ratchet loved the siren. Despite not having any real desire for the blue mech the twins knew their beloved harpy was not capable of limiting his spark to loving only two mechs. Harpies were wired differently, and just maybe, that was what they loved most about him.

"We're slagged." Sunstreaker agreed, letting his processors drift into a half slumber as he waited with new, infinite patience for Hot Spot and Ratchet to return.

"So, why's everyone afraid of Ratchet's carrier?" Sideswipe asked absently, allowing the question to fade into silence with Sunstreaker's first soft snore.


End file.
